Frozen Alive: 36th Annual Hunger Games (SYOT)
by Icye
Summary: 24 tributes. One arena. Yep, you heard me- this is the true Hunger Games. One move made wrong and it could mean death. Of course, death could be even more certain when you end up in a frozen wasteland. Rated T because Hunger Games. Closed SYOT, but you can still read. Again: NOT ACCEPTING TRIBUTES!
1. Submit Yo Characters!

**A/N: Heyyyyy guys, welcome to my very first Hunger Games story and first SYOT(submit your own tribute)! Uhh, I may not be doing this right, but I hope I am in terms of SYOTS. So yeah, and enjoy! Feel free to create your own character, it is CLOSED as of now however. The form is down below. I got this from SilverflowerxRavenpaw, with a few tweaks.**

Name(last name is optional but will probably be added by me if you don't fill it in):

Gender(I know most people like to do girls! Please guys, I need some boys too):

Age(12-18):

District(you may not get what you want, so put down a couple in case you don't receive first choice):

Physical Appearance(I want skin color, hair color, etc, not the kind of clothes they wear):

Personality(please don't just put down a bunch of adjectives):

Backstory(what is their life like?):

Strengths(don't do a 12-year-old child prodigy! Okay?! If you want your character to be a Career, then you may have better strengths):

Weaknesses(about as many weaknesses as strengths, it's okay if you have one or two less):

Reaped/Volunteered:

Reaction/Reason(about the reaping):

Reaping Outfit:

Reaping Scene(what happens during their reaping.)

Family(If you want them to be included.)

Interview Outfit(this is optional, but if you don't fill it in, you are likely to get a set of ugly clothes, sorry. Please don't make it too good.)

Interview Angle(happy? Sarcastic? Etc)

Training Score(not everyone makes a ten):

Parade Outfit(same as interview):

Token(may not be mentioned, but it might. An armband, pin, are fine. No hidden knives!):

Alliances(you may need to get other peoples' permission first, keep in mind this is optional, but I really wouldn't like it if everyone was alone. Careers are generally gonna be with the Career pack.)

Bloodbath Plan(will they run or get supplies?):

Will They Die In The Bloodbath?(I need these, guys! If there's not enough volunteers, I may just pick a couple):

Games Plan(how do they plan to win?):

Fight/Flight Instinct(will they run or fight?):

Preferred Death(I know nobody wants to die, but if you do, this is basically a reconciliation prize):

Predicted Placement(I don't want you all saying stuff like "winner". Though if your predicted placement is very low, you have a lower chance of winning. Keep in mind I am not choosing winners from this. I just want to see your personal opinion):

Other(go crazy with this! Any other info you need to tell me?):

* * *

President Coriolanus Snow looked over the balcony at his people, eyes glittering malevolently, one rose pinned to his collar and carrying a heavily perfumed scent. Covering something, yet nobody knew what unless they got close enough.

He would never tell, of course.

He gathered himself for his annual speech, though there was no need- he had spent hours getting ready and now would be no different. He cleared his throat importantly and they all hushed. It was then that he shouted, "Welcome, welcome, all!"

A roar of cheers sprang up among the Capitol people.

"Welcome to the evening before the annual Reapings!" he called. "For the thirty-six Hunger Games—" He drew a slip of paper out from his coat pocket, "—it will be in honor of the seasons, and not to lower your guard at any moment. For the thirty-sixth Games, taken place this summer, it will reflect the opposite of what it truly is."

His eyes glinted. "Since it is summer, this year's Games will take place in winter."

Murmurs eddied out among the crowd, whispers of wonder, of disbelief. The present chuckled softly, the presence of blood and roses always, always there. "This year...I present to you Frozen Alive."


	2. Bidding and Sponsors Info

**This is a quick information thing: to sponsor, all you have to do is PM me which person you want to sponsor and what you want to give them. If it is too good, I'll ask you to change it. If a whole bunch of people are getting the same thing, then you'll have to change the tribute.**

 **The other thing is called bidding. Bidding is based off how many reviews you post and your tribute. You get to bid on any tribute you want after it narrows down to the final eight, with "points". I will keep track of the points each chapter(except for this one.)**

 **Basically, when you bid, just say in your review or PM, that you want to bid however many points on a certain tribute. As in all bids, your bid has to be higher than the top one. I will put the top bid at the top of each chapter, for each tribute.**

 **You get five points for each review, ten points for submitting one tribute, and thirty points if your tribute dies. I changed my mind by the way, I'll post the current points. Guests, please don't post, like, a million reviews a chapter. Two is of maximum.**

 _POINTS:_

 _Author196: 25_

 _jul312: 20_

 _kealimepie: 20_

 **7/6(ish)/17**


	3. District 5 Reaping

**_Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)_**

 _I studied myself_ in the mirror, my narrowed green eyes watching every movement I made. I figured I looked good in black. It clashed with my long black hair, but only slightly; my hair was red at the bottom anyway. Red and black looked good together.

My lips pursed as I saw the huge bags under my eyes, and all the little cuts I had collected over the years from my stepmother's abuse. I could say that was child abuse, but nobody really cared or payed attention to me, and papa was always at work.

I concocted another fantasy where I didn't have these bruises. Where I was just a normal girl, growing up in a place where the world is taken over by the Capitol and its Hunger Games. Because of my mom, I have it a whole lot worse, in this already bad place.

I laughed a little at the thought that I would get picked into the Hunger Games. My bad luck would be just _dreadful_. I could just about say that my whole life was ruined without even lying.

I returned my attention back to the mirror. That was one thing that my long dress didn't hide- the cuts along my arms. I figured maybe I could just ignore them and everything would be fine. After all, today was the day of the Reaping. Afterward, I could take refuge in my room and have a nice long day without having to go to school.

"TWYLA!" my stepmom screamed up the stairs. Gosh, even her voice sounded like a witch's. I even called her a witch in my head.

"Coming!" I called back, hugging my arms as I headed out of my room and to the small kitchen where the Witch had made breakfast. That was what she did all day- verbally and physically abuse me, plus do all the house chores, while papa worked.

Kids in District Five were fortunate enough to have school, but my stepmom wouldn't let me go until I was eleven. That was extremely unhealthy for my social status, and I had lived my life without friends.

My stepmom- her real name is Gisele by the way- curled her lip as I walked into the room. I tried my best to ignore her like I always did, but failed. Her glare could burn through ice.

"Today is the Reaping," she remarked, sitting down on the chair across from me. There was a third chair, to my left, that was supposed to be papa's, but he rarely came back early enough to eat with us. Then the fourth... I felt another icy twinge crawl up my spine.

The fourth chair was for Ronnie, my stepbrother, who was the light that made me sane. He was my only friend, and he died in an electrical fire three years ago. I pushed myself away from the memories, set my jaw, and looked down to my bowl, which contained a slice of gross-looking bread. Trying not to glare at my stepmother, I finished the piece of bread. It tasted worse than usual. Probably the Witch's anger issues about the Reaping.

I cleaned up the table and attempted to get out without another scratch, but of course that wasn't possible. Gisele hissed, " _What_ do you think you're doing, you little brat?" and, just like that, she delivered a stinging slap to my shoulder. It hurt like fire, and I let out a cry, even though I'd learned to toughen up over the years. The pain was as searing as hot coals.

I looked up to see Gisele's triumph, witch eyes gazing into my own. "Never try that again," she growled. "Or you'll be sorry." She shoved me into the door and yanked it open so that I fell back, almost onto the ground. "Now leave! If you were a well-behaved girl, you would volunteer at the Capitol's little game."

I backed away as I heard the door slam shut in front of me, then began walking like I did every year. I got tesserae every year, so now, I had twenty pieces of paper, saying my name, in the glass bowl where the District Five escort, Sabrina Mink, chose just one slip. I was one of the few people who considered tesserae, since District Five was one of the wealthier districts.

The square was crowded, so I had to duck around the crowd to get to the other sixteen-year-olds. Sabrina Mink was behind a podium on the stage, looking regally dressed as always. Her gemstone eyes were outlined in black so many times it looked like she was a panda, and her pale white skin contrasted with her sparkling silver-blue curls, hanging in ringlets all the way to her waist. She wore a violet dress that went down to her knees in the front, but touched the ground in the back. Basically her normal looks.

The mayor, in a formal suit and tie, sat on a chair with their two victors. His hair was graying, yet he looked as formidable as he had always been. Isaak Caraway had won the 7th Hunger Games by staying hidden until the very end, then slicing off a Career's head with an axe. I had watched the Career girl's death multiple times, watched how the axe just sliced cleanly through her neck. How could just one weapon do that? It seemed incredibly gruesome.

Zippina Roxfeld, the other victor, was still young, winning the 30th Hunger Games at the age of fifteen. She had viciously killed a total of four tributes in just the Bloodbath, and two more later on, which was probably the record number of kills anyone had ever gotten, including the Careers.

I froze as Sabrina Mink announced the beginning of the Reaping. She declared some gushy things about the Capitol that I wasn't really paying attention to(I was more focused on the fact that I would get a whole day off), then showed the video like she did every year. The one that explained our past.

Then, before I knew it, the video was done and she was saying in that chirpy Capitol accent, "Ladies first!" My eyes, like everyone else's, seemed to be poised on her violet silk glove that clawed through the mounds of paper slips.

She pulled one out. I felt sweat slip down my face like it always did whenever I was at the Reaping. This was a nervousness that nothing else could create. It changed the whole course of one's life: either you came back famous, or you were dead, dead, _dead_.

Her lips were moving, and the name she said would haunt me for the rest of my pitiful life.

"Twyla Zahavyin."

Oh, how I wished I could've punched Gisele in the face earlier!

* * *

 _ **Mica Mendel(D5 Male)**_

 _I walked off_ to the Reaping with my four older brothers, who were all walking ahead of me. Eh. They probably already forgot about me. I reached into my pocket for the coil of wire I liked to play with and kept my hands occupied the whole way there.

 _Woah_. The Square looked nothing like it did on normal days. Usually, it was dreary and gray, surrounded by Peacekeepers, plus generally too boring for me to handle. Now, it had cameras posted everywhere, and balloons were duct taped to the four poles on either side of the Square.

I joined the other fourteen-year-olds with a sigh, and was almost immediately tugged to the front by one of my best friends, Atom(everyone called him Tom). Ashalia, his twin sister, and Albert Francis from school were there too, looking at least a tiny bit nervous.

I tried to cheer them up by remarking, "Look what I've got here!"

That captured their interest for a second, but then they were looking back to the escort, Sabrina Mink, and the conversation turned to the Reaping too. God, we must've sounded like a bunch of District 1 people right then and there.

"Sabrina Mink wears the most awful dresses," Ashalia whispered, her eyes darting to our escort. Of course Ashalia would think that- she was skilled at making clothing of all sorts. She could've even blended in with the textile District just fine.

Albert fidgeted slightly. "Oh look, the video's playing."

Then everyone was zombie-fied into staring at her delicate hand, reaching into the bowl of possible female tributes, and pulling one out. Just one, perfectly shaped, slip of paper, like the rest of them. Oh, she was so important to us. Not in the worshipping way like the Career Districts, but in the way that she twisted the future, just like that. If she had moved her hand a different way, there would be a whole other name coming out of her name.

I was praying for Ashalia right now. Her full name was Ashalia Martilzee, which kind of explained why Sabrina was having trouble with pronunciation.

"And the female tribute is..," she declared at last.

"Twyla Zahavyin!"

I let out a deep breath without realizing I had been holding it. Ashalia was grinning, "Another year of the Hunger Games without being drawn," and Tom was looking fairly relieved. I watched as the Twyla girl strode up to the stage, looking close to tears but refusing to let them fall. I wondered how I hadn't noticed her before. She had unusual black hair that faded into red at the bottom, tied into a braid, and a toughness to admire about her.

But she would also be going to the Hunger Games. That was a death sentence for everyone in the Districts- all but the Careers, of course.

Now Sabrina was reaching into the bowl that held all the male tributes. I clenched my jaw, feeling like breaking down in front of everyone else even though she hadn't even picked anyone yet. Her hand skimmed over a couple, then landed on one. She swept it out and announced the male tribute in a flash:

"The male tribute is..." Moment of suspense there. "Mica Mendel!"

Wait. What? I wished my name was anything else right then. Anything but Mica Mendel. Just one letter wrong and I would be off the hook another year.

I was only fourteen! That was no age to go into the Hunger Games! Whoever had heard of a fourteen-year-old winning? They were always the eighteen year olds, or the sixteen and seventeens. Not the _fourteens_!

Ashalia grabbed my shirt and yanked me out onto the walkway, though a couple tears had made its way down her face. I bit on my lip, my eyes widened, and tried to smile, to no avail. My hands were like spiders snapping at each other.

"Shake hands, tributes of District Five!" Sabrina chirped. I grabbed Twyla's hand and shook it; I could feel the sweat on her palm.

We were quickly ushered to the building in front of the Square after, to say goodbye to our parents and all that. I couldn't believe I had just been chosen. Out of all those names, me? A fourteen year old who only had three slips of paper in there?

Two Peacekeepers, guarding a large door, opened it up to me, and to Twyla across the hall. I entered it, squinting at the sudden bright light. That was when I allowed my tears to finally show through. Here, in private.

I slumped down on the couch, not really caring if it was made of expensive red velvet and all that. I was utterly doomed now. How would I win the Hunger Games? I had never even touched a weapon before, never mind used one. If somebody were to attack, I would be dead.

My family were the first visitors. The goodbyes were long and hard, and I hadn't even entered the Hunger Games yet! I hugged my father and promised I would win, while he cursed under his breath. My dad _never_ curses.

My four tall, muscular brothers, Dave, Wyatt, Edison(or Ed), and Cooper, admired the couch mostly. They didn't have any real connections with me, as I was often alone in my bedroom, so they weren't exactly expressing any sadness. I bet they were excited to see what I had for the Hunger Games.

After my family came Tom, Ashalia, and Albert. Ashalia was sobbing outwardly, while Tom and Albert were gazing stormy-eyed at me. "You have to win," she sniffled. "For all of us."

"I will," I promised. More like, lied. I was not going to win, there was just no chance.

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it before stepping back. Tom muttered, "You gotta win. For us, Mica. That Capitol's evil and you gotta prove them wrong."

Albert added, "We'll watch you on TV. We'll cheer you on. Just know that when you're in the arena. Don't break down. Don't get too nervous or let your guard down." He winked. "And get allies."

I nodded, not even feeling like being funny right now- I was just too miserable. They were ushered out and there was a loud silence before a girl I didn't know with strange hair- wait, was that Twyla? Yep, it was her. What was she doing here?

"Hey," she said urgently, plopping down on the sofa. "I didn't get any visitors, so you know, why not hang out here?" She peered at my hand. "Hey, what's that?"

I looked down at what she was staring at and revealed a sparkly violet pendent, with the words, _Best Friends Forever_ written across the front in yellow letters. I put the chain around my neck and squeezed the pendent. This was definitely from Ashalia. She had probably gave it to me while grabbing my hand, and my fingers had been around it ever since.

"Ooh, sparkly," she admired. I stared at her, but then she rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Sure. But no visitors means no taken, so bad luck for me."

"What about your parents?" I asked her. My voice sounded slurred.

"My dad's out working, like, every second of the day. He didn't even come to the Reaping. And my mom hates me. So that's pretty horrible for expecting visitors." She frowned. "Plus I've got no friends."

I didn't know what to say to this so we were just quiet until Sabrina Mink called us out.

Time for a _long_ train ride.

 **7/13(ish)/17**


	4. District 11 Reaping

**List so far. Please, guys, if you have any characters, then it would be awesome if you could submit! I'll copy-paste the form to my profile to make it easier for you guys, if you wanna check there. :) Also, tell me how often you want me to update! I won't do it every day, obviously, but something frequent but not too often will be good.**

District One Female:

District One Male: Mark Seashire (DeadlyHuggles)

District Two Female: (taken, character in progress)

District Two Male: (taken, character in progress)

District Three Female:

District Three Male: Tyler Kaufman (GalaxyPika)

District Four Female: Azurine (Zuri) Bahari (jul312)

District Four Male:

District Five Female: Twyla Zahavyin (Author196)

District Five Male: Mica Mendel (jul312)

District Six Female:

District Six Male: Cameron Bordeaux (kealimepie)

District Seven Female:

District Seven Male: Spruce Ashmark (Muddyboots)

District Eight Female: Lace Riverworth (Muddyboots)

District Eight Male:

District Nine Female: Zahava Doita (Author196)

District Nine Male:

District Ten Female:

District Ten Male:

District Eleven Female: Elisabeth Bronzebrook (DeadlyHuggles)

District Eleven Male: Amil Everret (BabyRue11)

District Twelve Female:

District Twelve Male: Jackson (Jax) Winters (AtruxDragneel)

* * *

 _ **Amil Everret (D11 Male)**_

I was not one to quit, especially not now, when my family was on the brink of starvation. What could I do that was most helpful? Get food, obviously. So, on the day of the Reaping, I walked outside, where there was sure to be people lingering outside since it was a holiday.

The air was filled with the scents from crops, acres and acres of crops out there where the District Eleven people made a living. If one were to go on a vacation here, they would find it rather irritating, but as I had grown up in this place for all his life, I had gotten used to it.

I let a charming, relaxed smile spread across my face as I headed around town with not much of a destination in mind, hands tucked in pockets. There were people begging for food out on the streets, thin and scrawny, but I was not one of them. I, Amil Everret, would not _beg_ for food. I would get it myself.

My smile grew even wider when I spotted a girl from the same crop I worked on every day. She was not pretty, kind of like average, with soft, delicate features and heavily tanned skin. Her hair was stringy as yarn, the color of straw, tied into two pigtails. A couple freckles covered her face, making her look unbelievably sweet.

"Hello," I greeted her casually, working like a well-oiled clock. I would persuade a few coins from her, then work my way to the next, um, victim.

"Hi," she said nervously, her hands twitching like spiders. I suspected she had a crush on me like every other girl in District Eleven. Too bad she wasn't the type I liked, though, I thought wryly as she made her way towards me.

"So?" I said as if it were obvious. "How are you?"

She bit her lower lip. "I'm fine. You yourself?" It was a small attempt to try to fit in with me, be noticeable, but it definitely didn't work.

I smirked. "Perfect, actually." I allowed one of my signature grins to replace the lazy smile, hoping she'd have more of a reaction. Because this boring shell was _exactly_ I needed right now.

"So," she started, wringing her hands.

"So," I repeated. "Have ya got any money on you?" I winked. "Spare coins?"

She brought a hand to her mouth, muffling the indecision. I knew then that she was torn. She wanted to give money to me, help me- of course, anybody would. But it would economically harm her own family, too. I let her think for a minute, smiling around my teeth.

The girl nodded, mumbling, "Sureeee," and reached into her pocket for a drawstring bag that looked really nice. It looked to be made of actual leather, with a couple beads on the braided string. She pulled it open and handed me a couple of the coins inside.

"My earnings this week," she said with a quick beam, as if wanting to see me glow. I fulfilled that perfectly, staring straight into her dull brown eyes. She flushed a hot pink that was kind of sweet, with her freckles and pigtails in the mix.

"Thanks a bunch," I answered silkily, examining the coins. Ooh, nice, she'd given me one that was worth a whole ragged blanket. I would have to get one of those for my dad. Maybe it would make him less grumpy and boring.

Her cheeks were still red as she replied, "No problem," very quickly. She was just about to put away her bag when I pointed at it. She raised her eyebrows, startled.

"Where'd you get that at?" I asked charmingly, dashing another smile at her. Hopefully she found me distracting. I mean, with my spiky black hair and glimmering brown eyes, who thought anything different? At least, I hoped so.

"The bag?" she asked unnecessarily. I nodded. "Oh, from a friend some years ago."

"Oh. Cool." I grabbed her hand, and she cringed away from me, blushing harder. I smiled patiently and purred, "So, can I see your bag?"

"Um.." She bit her lip. "Okay!" With a slight hesitation, she passed it over to me. I gazed over it, liking it a lot and wondering at the same time how I could bribe her out of it. She obviously cherished it very much.

"Hey, could I- er- ask if I could have one? I just love it, you see, and my family..." Forming a plan quickly in my head, I set it into motion. I let my lower lip twitch, as if I were about to cry, and her eyes widened, not really knowing what to do.

"Oh, you don't have to say. I, um, see you need it a lot more than I do," she stated breathlessly, pushing the bag into my hands. "Please- don't cry." I pretended to sniffle, feeling triumphant and evil all at the same time, playing with her emotions like this, but it was necessary. To survive.

"Okay," I said quietly, already eager to show my parents my new bag and coins. I would buy them something to eat, and it would all be worth it, in the end. Besides, she was part of the slightly richer community within Eleven, yet not as good as the merchant class. She surely didn't need the money as much as I did.

She reached out tentatively and gripped my hand, in a show of comfort. Though I didn't need it, I accepted her kindness with a smile that showed all my teeth. Because my plan had worked. My family had survived another day of living in the harsh qualities of Panem.

She opened her mouth to say something, but then decided against it at the last minute and let me leave. I saw a girl with dark hair and brilliant hazel eyes: "Hey, Cornflower." She smiled at me and continued along her way.

I greeted a couple more people as I made my way through town, to the place that sold grains. We could make it into bread at home. The best place was a bakery that Pepper and his family owned, in which they had all sorts of grains and bread.

The store was not much cooler than outside, especially considering the fact that it was summer and horribly hot here in Eleven. Pepper was working as always, helping to re-shelf paper sacks filled with grains in their correct storage units.

"Hey, Pepper," I said as I closed the door behind me.

Pepper whirled around, then relaxed when he saw it was just me. "Oh, hi. Normally people would be inside, or chilling, since, you know, Reaping's coming up, but, how may I help you?" Pepper was a boy who often stuttered, especially when he was at his work or around strangers. It often interrupted his speech.

"Yeah, well, I'd like some grains," I responded smoothly. "Cheapest kind, please." I handed him a couple coins and he took them, taking down a bag from the top shelf and giving it to me.

"Here," he said simply. "Uh, thanks." I accepted my change with another grin(I mean, they came naturally to me, so why not use them?), then headed my way home.

When I got home, they were all preparing for the Reaping. My mother was in a gold dress that complimented her honey-toned skin, and my dad in a dark gray suit, complete with tie. I greeted them, grinning, and asked, "So, what's my outfit gonna be, seeing as you're all dressed up?"

My father said impassively, "Everything's in your room," while my mother paced nervously, seeming to be worked up by the fact that it was another year of the Reaping. Then again, it was the last year. I was eighteen now and there was the most chance that I would be chosen, but if it passed as it should, everything would be fine.

Fine for the rest of my life, because I was off the hook.

I changed into my father's old suit that he lent to me, though honestly, it was reeking with some unknown smell, and I wished he had washed it earlier. Oh well. I skipped my way downstairs, eager to get it over with.

"Come on," my father said gruffly, and we all went on our way, me going slightly ahead of them because my friends would surely be there before me. Although, technically, everyone working in my crop and around my age were considered my friend, since I was most certainly on their good side.

I greeted my friends with a certain charm added to every word. The District Eleven escort, a man named Maximus Rodgers. Curly black hair that was dyed a sickening yellow, glittering black eyes like little jewels set into his head. He had a pale, glittering, vampire-like complexion.

The Reaping started normally. They showed the video they showed every year, the same speeches, all that. Our previous victor sat on a chair with the mayor.

Then, Maximus began to draw out names. "As always, we will start with our female tribute," he said curtly, pulling on a pair of white gloves and digging his hand into the heaps of paper slips. So many to choose from..he was literally determining somebody's death, right then and there. I wondered if he knew that.

He plucked one out of the pile and read out, "And the female tribute for this year is Rosie Bronzebrook."

A girl, definitely around twelve years old, made her way up to the stage, tears forming around her eyes, though she didn't let them fall. She was very pale, with light blonde hair and a little over average height. She stood alone on the stage, shaking uncontrollably. I felt a twinge of pity for her despite myself.

"Any volunteers?" Maximus asked. "Okay th—"

"I volunteer as tribute!" a girl yelled instantly. She was a mirror image of her sister, but much taller, and she ran up to the stage, hugging the girl called Rosie. The whole crowd was craning to see the stage and the rare volunteer.

Maximus looked pleased. "Alright, then, what is your name, and how old are you?" The cameras were repeatedly snapping pictures in the background silence.

"My name is Elizabeth Bronzebrook and I am fourteen years old!" she declared. Wow. Some enthusiasm she had there.

Maximus nodded and, after a few murmured words from sister to sister, sent Rosie back to the crowd. I tensed as I realized it was the time for the selection of the male tributes. I could see all my friends doing the same.

Maximus reached into the bowl and, quick as lightning, stated, "The male tribute for this year's Hunger Games is Amil Everret."

Amil Everret? My mind went blank. Who was that again? Oh, right, that was me. Me, Amil Everret, the one who made girls swoon and made boys jealous. Who had a ton of friends because everyone wanted to be near his awesome presence.

Yeah, that awesome presence might've been me.

I cursed aloud upon realization, then began the walk to the stage. The Death Walk. I tried not to let my sadness show on my face, attempting a charming smile that came naturally. Not now. I probably looked pathetic now. I hoped the cameras weren't recording me.

I could hear gasps rippling throughout the crowd: a lot of girls and some boys, all going visibly upset. I tried not to think too much about how this was my last day in District Eleven.

"The tributes of District Eleven! Shake hands," ordered Maximus. I grabbed the other girl's hand and shook it; it was ice-cold, glistening with sweat. I was the same.

* * *

 _ **Elizabeth Bronzebrook (D11 Female)**_

After the Reaping, we were instructed to go into the building opposite the Square to say goodbye and all that. I was still shaking from what I had done, even as I was seated on the plush velvet couch, the most expensive thing I'd ever seen.

Would _ever_ see.

I expected Rosie to come, and she did, tears making streaks down her pale face. I hugged her tightly and we just stayed like that for most of the time, sobbing into each other. "I'm so, so sorry, Elizabeth," Rosie murmured. "I shouldn't have let you volunteer."

"Don't worry," I said softly. "If you had gone to the Reaping, mother would've killed me."

Rosie sniffled, "No, I was supposed to go." She looked directly into my eyes. "You saved my life."

"Yeah, I guess I did." I looked down to my tightly intertwined fingers sitting on my lap, and felt a wave of sorrow. I would die. I would die and probably be killed by someone, and that's the worst kind of death there is, the most painful...

I had a vision where I just committed suicide, right then and there.

But I had to give Rosie hope. I had to look like I was fighting. There was the slimmest chance I could win. A slim chance, but I would try my hardest.

"Promise you'll win? Promise you'll come back home?" Rosie pleaded, squeezing my hand.

I smiled ruefully. "Come back home to mother being bathed in jewelry and all that when she deserved nothing? I think not."

Rosie's gaze hardened. "You have to, Elizabeth, c'mon! You have to promise."

"I promise," I said, but my voice seemed lost. I didn't actually mean the promise, did I?

Yes, I did. I had to win, for Rosie. She was too young to experience this kind of death and bloodshed. I had volunteered for her so that we had a greater chance of winning.

And I would succeed.

* * *

My next visitor was my friend, Avery, who embraced me and sobbed a faint goodbye into my shoulder. I cherished the moment with my friend as well, knowing very well that it could be the last time I ever saw them again. They were the only visitors I had, anyway, before the train ride.

Avery then reached into her pocket and gave me something, slipping it into the palm of my hand. "Here, Elizabeth. Keep it. For the arena." I looked down at the little pendent and felt like crying all over again. It was in the shape of an owl, Rosie's favorite animal, and I could almost see my sister's fierce, determined eyes in the winged creature.

"Thank you," I whispered numbly. "For everything."

 **A/N: Sorry if I didn't get Amil's POV just right, it was hard for me to adjust to his charming personality. xP**

 **7/16/17**


	5. District 6 Reaping

LIST:

District One Female: (reserved)

District One Male: Mark Seashire (DeadlyHuggles)

District Two Female: Persefone Douglas (Jolteon2404)

District Two Male: (reserved)

District Three Female: (somebody that I forgot her name)

District Three Male: Tyler Kaufman (GalaxyPika)

District Four Female: Azurine (Zuri) Bahari (jul312)

District Four Male: (reserved)

District Five Female: Twyla Zahavyin (Author196)

District Five Male: Mica Mendel (jul312)

District Six Female: Harriet Wilson (murphyyy2000)

District Six Male: Cameron Bordeaux (kealimepie)

District Seven Female: (reserved)

District Seven Male: Spruce Ashmark (Muddyboots)

District Eight Female: Lace Riverworth (Muddyboots)

District Eight Male: (reserved as for now, waiting for answers)

District Nine Female: Zahava Doita (Author196)

District Nine Male: Cornell Wheaton (murphyyy2000)

District Ten Female: Dahlia Rhodes (The Wandering Phantom)

District Ten Male: Murray Keyes (Elim9)

District Eleven Female: Elisabeth Bronzebrook (DeadlyHuggles)

District Eleven Male: Amil Everret (BabyRue11)

District Twelve Female: Alice Kimminger (BloodedInk)

District Twelve Male: Jackson (Jax) Winters (AtruxDragneel)

* * *

 _POINTS:_

Author196: 35

kealimepie: 20

AtruxDragneel: 15

GalaxyPika: 15

Muddyboots: 25 (sorry your reviews were all the same)

jul312: 30

DeadlyHuggles: 40

Bananananananana: 5

BabyRue11: 15

murphyyy2000: 30

Elim9: 10

Jolteon2404: 10

The Wandering Phantom: 10

Poodlenoodles: 5

BloodedInk: 20

* * *

 ** _Harriet Wilson (D6 Female)_**

I tossed my hair over my shoulder, thoughts flitting about the Reaping. A sigh. Oh well. Hopefully I wouldn't be picked. The people needed me here in Six. I tried my best to help everyone, so that I would appear likable. If I was ever chosen for the Hunger Games, I would be better off with everybody missing me and cheering me on.

"Honey!" my mom called from downstairs. I looked up from my bewildering thoughts and tried to calm down. Everything would be alright. I only had two slips in their since I was thirteen and we were able to get along okay without tesserae. I would not be chosen.

I emerged from me and my mother's small room, to the place where we ate, right in front of the door. It had two chairs on opposite sides of a square table, which mom repaired if it ever broke(she was a mechanic). The third had been my dad's, but it had been sold like every other thing he had owned.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked. "Do you need any help?"

My mother smiled at me affectionately. I mean, I loved my mom and all, but I still wanted to know all I could about dad... "No, just sit down and eat, and then we'll go to the Reaping," she replied.

I slid into the first chair, gazing down at my plate of bread and eggs. Special Reaping breakfast, like we had once every year, with the rare eggs. I finished it in record time and stood up. "Can we go now?"

Mom laughed, "Well, you're eager today," and then paused, studying my outfit. "Everything ready?"

"Yes, ready," I confirmed, but then I remembered something: "Wait, can I go down there one more time?"

"Of course, dear," was Mom's reply, and I dashed back into my room, adrenaline pulsing through my body. I snatched the little locket necklace that sat on my table, the one with dad's picture on it, and proceeded to scramble out again.

"Here!" I panted, showing her the necklace.

Mom's brow furrowed. "What for?"

"Luck," I told her.

We set out the door, my braids almost bouncing on my shoulders. I was in a slightly cheerful mood from waking up late, having no school, and even the Reaping couldn't ruin that. My doubts all fluttered away as I stepped into the bright sunshine, the perfect weather for the holiday. There were blue skies and cotton ball clouds that matched exactly myself.

There was already a small crowd out there in the Square, but not that much. We had come considerably early, and everyone wanted to stay at home as much as possible before coming. Not me, though. I was definitely an outside kind of person; I liked the nature, and animals were a must-have. I remembered Helena, my pet cat, whom I fed every day and spent as much time as I could with.

A smile dashed across my face at Helena's black-and-white splotched fur, barely noticeable in the shadows.

I met my friends there we struck up a conversation about the strays we had encountered during the month. Eva reported that her pet pigeon, whom she had named Arnold, was very sweet and playful, and we all decided to meet up at her house later today to see him.

The Reaping started rather abruptly. I hadn't even noticed that everyone had gathered in a tighter circle, because I had been at the front anyway.

The District Six escort, a man named Warren Mist, complete with silver hair and grayish-blue eyes, did his annual speech, the same as I had heard last year. He mentioned the mayor and the Six victor, who had won last year and been so injured her Victory Tour had been late.

The speech ended and the video began. I looked around and saw a twelve-year-old boy having a panic attack about the Reaping. I immediately rushed over and tried to make him feel better, saying that there was little chance he would be picked, seeing as he was so young. He sniffled and looked up at me, "Really?" I nodded yes.

As he was feeling better, I walked back over to my group of friends and hugged them, like I did every year. Just in case I got Reaped. Or one of them got Reaped.

Just then, a voice boomed out of the platform, "Harriet Wilson."

There was complete silence. Nobody was stepping out of the crowd- who _was_ this Harriet Wilson? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no...

Harriet Wilson was _me._

 ** _Cameron Bordeaux (D6 Male)_**

I watched as the girl that was chosen for the Reaping, the girl who was probably the kindest person here in Six, yelled, "Daddy!" and started tearing up. I could see her blotchy face as she ran straight past the crowd and tried to escape.

It was kind of amusing, really, as the Peacekeepers cornered her and dragged the wailing, kicking tribute to the front.

"Well, Harriet," Warren said disapprovingly, looking down his nose at the sniffling thirteen-year-old. "Look who's being a bad girl this year." Wow. The first time Harriet Wilson's gotten in trouble.

Harriet's amber eyes went wide and she screamed, "Easy for you to say! Have- you ever- had your- name- in the—" She dissolved into another wave of tears.

Warren ignored her and said, "Onto the boy tributes, then." He reached into the bowl, sifting through there for the longest time until he came upon one. I wondered if he felt anything when he pulled it out, or if it was just random. Probably the latter.

My girlfriend, Caitlyn, muttered under her breath, "You won't get picked...it's your first Reaping...mine too... but I didn't..." I couldn't tell her what I was planning. She would be too horrified, she would be so angry at me.

But I knew I could do it.

"The male tribute for this year's annual Hunger Games is... Tom Kent," Warren announced swiftly. Tom Kent.. _oh_. The little fifteen-year-old boy who was a few inches shorter than me and always wore a fake smile.

But now, he was openly gaping at the escort, not believing a single word he was saying. I sighed. How tributes always acted. Couldn't they just walk up there and get a grip on themselves for their last shred of dignity?

Slowly, Tom began stumbling forward, his eyes fixed on his shoes. I felt a little hint of pity for him, but not that much. He always tried to fit in by being extra mean to me, anyway, so if he went off to the Games, that was one bully taken away.

Then I remembered what I was going to do, and my fingers flexed in defiance. Should I do it? Of course I was gonna do it. What else would I do for the rest of my life? Live in fear of the Capitol? I had to get my District the glory it needed, even with a victory last year, and now.

I would also save a bully, but I tried not to think too much about that. Tom would be kissing my shoes when I came home victorious. I started pushing my way through the crowd, and Caitlyn followed me, asking anxiously, "Cameron, what are you _doing_?"

"You'll see," I answered over my shoulder. Then, with that, I shouted, "I volunteer as District Six tribute!"

Volunteers in District Six weren't common, since it wasn't a Career District, but it still happened, though only occasionally. Perhaps once every few years, and they were always for really good reasons, like protecting a sibling and that kind of thing. My reason was that I was sure I could win, and I could not wait any longer. I had been _born_ for this.

Warren held a hand up for quiet at all the commotion erupting around. I ran up to the stage, confident aligning itself with every heartbeat. I was totally going to win.

I cast a glance back at Caitlyn and saw her hurt, betrayed face clear among all the others. I tried to tell her that I could do it, that I was going to do it, and that I would come home a champion, like Metal Jameson had done the previous year, but she just turned away.

I felt a prick of hurt but pushed it away. I would explain everything later, when we were to say out goodbyes. Then she would understand. She would be my number one fan as I won my way to the winner of the arena. I also tried not to think that I was only saying this to make myself feel better. It was true; she always agreed with me. That was why we made such a great couple, right? Because we agreed on everything?

I should've told her before, I reflected. Then she would understand. I would've made sure she didn't talk me out of it, and I would get her to feel the same confidence I was feeling.

"What is your name?" Warren asked, energized by a spark of something more interesting than just the usual reactions. Speaking of which, the reactions to _me_ were: my parents shedding horrified tears, my bullies laughing and scorning me. Hah. I'd show them- I'd show everyone- that Cameron Bordeaux was the one who would be taking the Victory Tour this year.

I told him my name. Up close, I could see the the District Six escort really was perfect- his hair was curled and, though it was colored silver, I could see that he was still young. His eyes glinted dark blue and were set far into his face, while his mouth constantly twitched in what looked to be a taunting smile.

"Cameron, huh? Well then, Cameron, how old might you be?" Warren questioned smoothly.

I smiled back. "Twelve, sir!"

"What charming manners!" Warren exclaimed, though I wasn't even trying to be that way. "I _like_ your enthusiasm. Tell me, did you just say twelve?"

"Yes, I did," I confirmed, stifling a roll of the eyes. What else could I have said?

"That is awfully young for a volunteer!" Warren remarked. I had a feeling he was trying to stretch this as long as possible so the cameras would focus on Six's Reaping, and cut down on the others. I grinned at the thought of that.

"I agree," I said automatically. "But I _know_ I'm going to win!"

"I hope so too!" Warren chattered. For the first time ever, he cracked a rare smile, splitting his powdered face like the sun coming out from behind a curtain of clouds.

The cameras were snapping pictures as quickly as they could- beeps could be heard from starting and ending video clips. I beamed out at the crowd, feeling on top of the world. There was still a small sliver of doubt, but most of it was drowned out by excitement.

I was ushered over to the place where we would say our goodbyes. Another thorn prick of homesickness jabbed my heart, even though I hadn't even left yet, and I tried my best to continue my happy attitude. I just had to let the clouds fade away and _relax_. I was totally going to win.

The Peacekeepers, mutely surrounding me in a tight circle, led me into a large room that looked really comfy, more expensive than anything I had ever seen. It had a giant chandelier on the ceiling, covered with dozens of brightly lit candles. A huge couch covered a whole wall, complete with pillows cushioning the back and made of good-quality leather. A carpet sat in front of the couch, with little strings coming off the edges on every side. Then, on the opposite wall, there was an actual fireplace, giving heat to the room.

I plopped down onto the couch, judging the costs of my surroundings. I was definitely sure there was more expensive stuff in the Capitol, but this was already coming as a shock.

My first visitors were my mom and dad, both wiping tears off their cheeks. "Cameron, dear, why ever did you volunteer?" my mom sniffed.

I rolled my eyes, exasperated with the pessimism. "I can _win_ , mom. Don't worry!"

She looked up doubtfully. "Try your hardest," she managed simply. I gave her a reassuring smile.

My dad cursed. "Cameron Bordeaux, have you _lost your mind_? What were you thinking back there, getting yourself into trouble like this? You have so much to be leaving behind! Do you think Six is too bad for you? Do you want to go to the Capitol?"

"Partially," I admitted. "But mostly, I want to win. I am not going to be leaving behind this place that is in tatters. I will win, or I will die trying."

"You sure, boy?" my father said skeptically.

"Totally sure," I said in response, my confidence sky-rocketing as I did the reassuring. They were only making me feel better about this.

My next visitor was Caitlyn, who outright sobbed into my shoulder. I kissed her cheek and said, "Come _on_ Caitlyn, can't you spare a little hope for me that I'm gonna win? I promise you, I didn't volunteer if I thought I'd lose."

Caitlyn sniffed, wiping her nose. "I still can't believe you volunteered," she whispered.

I held her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. "I _will_ win. I will win or I will die trying." I repeated the same words that I had told my dad.

"O-okay," she stuttered. We shared a brief last kiss and then she pressed something into the palm of my hand. I looked down at a necklace that had the letter "C" imprinted on the front.

"What's this?" I asked, even though I had a feeling I knew what it was.

"It's a token. Take it with you to go to the Games," explained Caitlyn, a slight smile coming across her face.

"I will," I promised, squeezing it my sweat-flecked hand. "What's it stand for?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Us, I suppose. It could stand for you, Cameron, or it could stand for me, Caitlyn. Maybe you can gain hope from it, thinking that I'm cheering for you back home." Her gaze grew serious. "I'll watch the screens outside as often as I can."

I hugged my girlfriend. "Please do. I'd like you to send in some sponsored gifts if I ever get stuck," I joked.

She laughed, beaming at me. "You _know_ it's not my job. That's up to your escort." Her gaze dancing, she said, "Warren Mist."

"Strange guy, don't you think?" I remarked, referring to the escort. He had so many sudden mood changes.

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding her head. Just then, several Peacekeepers came in to escort Caitlyn out. I gave her another fleeting hug and watched as she was led away. This could be the last time I ever saw her again, I thought sadly. Then my sharper self said, _NO. You'll see her again when you come back with a victory on your head._

My friends visited me as well, but their goodbyes were less glued in my head as my family and Caitlyn's. Especially Caitlyn's- I couldn't stop thinking about her words, the brief moments when we'd talked about Warren Mist, and the necklace she'd slipped into the palm of my hand.

I looked down at the necklace now, at the little "C". All those memories of me and Caitlyn flew through my mind. I squeezed it tightly, cold beads of sweat slick on my hand. I felt a strange closing up of my throat, tears building in my eyes.

And finally, I let those tears fall.

 **7/21/17**


	6. District 8 Reaping

**Everything is reserved(no spots left). Just waiting for Reservations to come in! (D1 female, D4 male, D7 female)**

* * *

 _POINTS: (remember, you can use this for Bidding! if you don't know what that is, look at the second chapter)_

Author196: 35

kealimepie: 20

AtruxDragneel: 15

GalaxyPika: 15

Muddyboots: 30

jul312: 30

DeadlyHuggles: 45

Bananananananana: 5

BabyRue11: 15

murphyyy2000: 35

Elim9: 10

Jolteon2404: 20

The Wandering Phantom: 10

Poodlenoodles: 5

BloodedInk: 25

EllaRoseEverdeen: 10

Pi Or Pie: 5

* * *

 _ **Rowan Loranger (D8 Male)**_

I yawned, sitting up in bed. The day was clear in District Eight- the sky a pale gray color and the sun barely showing through a thin swath of clouds. A small strip of light shone down, enough to brighten my small room. I could hear my mother in the other room, already up and setting the table—an invitation to get out of bed

Then again, I didn't want to get up. I hadn't had this good a sleep since last year's Reaping. Today was a holiday, so we didn't have to go to school, and we could just sleep in until the people gathered in the Square and we were forced to get up.

My room was small, yet taking up a large portion of our house anyway. The only things there were included a bed that emitted strange squeaking noises when you put weight on it, plus also a set of unsteady wood drawers.

I looked down at my small collection of pictures, one of my dad, one of my mom, and one of my little sister. With a small sigh, I tucked them into my pocket. I would need them today; they would provide me strength for the journey ahead. The _long_ journey ahead.

I headed out into the main room and ate a quick breakfast, not really feeling hungry. My mind was too focused on what I intended to do- volunteer in the Reaping so I could provide my mother with all the riches of the world. We would never be poor again, for as long as we lived.

I wore the same thing I did every year- a simple tuxedo that was getting a bit small, but would do. I didn't have anything else, anyway.

"Mom, I'm leaving!" I informed her as my hand grabbed the doorknob.

"So soon?" She looked up from washing the dishes, her amber gaze burning with alarm. "The Reaping doesn't start until 11..."

"Yeah, I'm going there early," I stated. Mom nodded, though she still looked distinctly troubled, and I promised myself I would make it up to her. I would get those riches, no matter what stood in my way.

The clear sky was more obvious now that I was outside, walking along the edge of District Eight to get to the Square. It was a shortcut I had discovered a few years back, and it was better than weaving through all the streets just to get to the center of them.

There wasn't much of a crowd since the Reaping was still in two hours, so I got first pick of where to stand. I figured the front would be a better place to volunteer; everyone could see me there. Even the escort hadn't arrived yet, Mora Lee, a woman who must've been at least forty, but looked to be not a day over twenty, thanks to the Capitol's makeovers and all that.

We only had one victor, Woof, who won the 17th Hunger Games, but I would be sure to change that. I would come back victorious, with gold and silver and all the riches nobody else could hope to have. I would give it to my mother, and we would have a better life.

The District congregated faster than I would've thought possible, in the period of two hours. I saw my family, my mom holding my sister's hand, as they walked across the street among crowds of other people, using the long way. I waited impatiently, intending to tell them my plans to volunteer, but as everyone pushed around me, I couldn't get a good way out of the front. Was this just going to come as a surprise to them? How would they react? I berated myself for even staying in the front.

Mora Lee was very, very beautiful, but in that way that seemed extremely fraud at the same time. She had dark orange hair that went all the way down her waist, and pale violet eyes, seeming to sparkle in the sunlight. She was quite thin, but had to have at least more meat on her bones than the starved people of Eight. Her skin was dazzling and flawless, her lips full and rose-red. I couldn't imagine her reaction at stepping into this dusty, bedraggled community.

She was completely dressed in a pair of bright pink heels that looked ridiculously tall, a ruby dress going all the way down to her knees, and what looked like diamonds embedded into her skin, on the corners of her eyes. Talk about fancy.

Her voice, made loud by the microphone sitting on her podium, spoke of years in the Capitol, for it was filled with mirth, along with the typical accent, and could not be changed by anything, even a few days here. She gave her speech of, "Our mayor, of course, has done a great service to the Capitol. He will be remembered."

Then she spoke of our victor, Woof, who had won nineteen years ago, and was now in his thirties. He would be my mentor throughout the Games, giving me tips, helping me win. I didn't really care who the female tribute was- she would have to lose anyway if I were to come home. So my mind was somewhere else when Mora drew out the female tribute's name.

Her lips pursed slightly as she read the name on the paper, "Lace Riverworth."

Oh, no. Oh no no no no _no_. I knew Lace- she was a year older than me and excelled in her studies at school. She was rebellious- she would most likely be killed by the Capitol first day. She would probably be spitting insults the whole time.

She stepped up, almost laughing. There was a smile on her face, but it seemed worn, as if she had been smiling the whole time. Would she be good competition? I wondered. She was pretty good at gymnastics...and her stubborn personality could earn her a couple sponsors...

I brushed the thought away- she wasn't even a chance against me! I was great with snares, from preparing on my own all those years, and I excelled at sword-fighting. I had built up strengths on my own, and what had she done? Laughed at the Capitol! If she continued her disrespectful attitude, she would get killed by their sheer temper.

Then Mora Lee put her delicate white-gloved fingers into the boys' bowl. I watched in anticipation, waiting for the moment when I would volunteer. The escort unfolded the paper, a small smile curling across her face at making us wait. Could she just _hurry up_? A silver sheen of sweat was starting to form across my face.

"Rory Filips," Mora announced. My eyes traveled to a boy in the same section as me- seventeen years old. He was tall for his age, with dark hair and eyebrows that went straight up in surprise. Slowly, he began to make his way up to the stage.

I saw the perfect opportunity to volunteer- while everyone was sad and depressed and all that. Lace stood back with the same detached expression on her face, though a flicker of emotion had shone through as Rory came up, lower lip twitching uncontrollably like he was going to cry. Lace's eyes had shone with a sort of sadness, I thought. Maybe a memory of some sort.

I pushed my way to the stage. The people around me realized what I was doing and flinched back, as if I were a plague they didn't want to catch.

Then I shouted, as I had seen on the television in the Career Districts: "I volunteer as tribute!"

* * *

 _ **Lace Riverworth (D8 Female)**_

My eyes flitted to my parents, Thread and Neem, who all gazed anxiously back at me and my sister Ferne. _I hope Ferne doesn't get picked..._

I tried to smile at my parents are the video narrowed to a stop. I wasn't exactly worried for my own safety... That would be amazing to finally get to show up the Capitol. But Ferne, who was thirteen this year, had a small chance of getting chosen, and that was what my thoughts were about as the Reaping proceeded.

Mora Lee chose from the girls' bowl first, as she always did every year. I crossed my fingers for Ferne, but also hoped for a few moments that I would get picked, because it would be so great to spark a rebellion right on national television.

She unfolded the paper, musing over it for a second, before she announced, "Lace Riverworth."

I took a deep breath out. So it wasn't Ferne. It was me. I could survive the Hunger Games. If I died, it would all be worth it, because I would shout curses at the Capitol the whole time. And everybody would hear, everybody would realize the Capitol isn't so great as it seems, and they would follow my example.

It was all there, written in the stars for me to fulfill. With a smile on my face at the Capitol getting what they deserved, I crossed to the front of the stage, looking out over District Eight. It was actually a lot bigger of a crowd than I had thought from my place within it, but now I had such a great view over everything. I could see Ferne, her eyes red with tears, and my mother and father were trying their hardest not to do the same...

 _Don't worry, Mom, Dad, Ferne,_ I thought. _I'll be fine._

Mora's clawed hand then sifted through the boys' bowl of paper slips, reaching for the one that was destined to go to the Games. She paused at one, drew it from the bowl, purred out, "Rory Filips." Huh. I didn't really know Rory that well, anyway.

But then, as I saw the tall boy, the dark hair and the gray eyes widening in disbelief, my heart skipped a beat. He looked so much like Azo...who had died from a previous Games...I remembered the muscular boy from One who had chased him down and threw a spear into his back. He had bled to death, not a single soul to help him.

Rory could almost be mistaken for Azo, I would try to save him if I could in the Games, because, well, memories. But then, another boy pushed through the crowd to the stage and yelled, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Those four words were almost foreign in Eight, and I had to blink to understand them. He volunteered as tribute? I wanted to go into the Games and prove their whole thing wrong, but I wasn't _that_ crazy.

"What is your name?" Mora asked in a pleased tone of voice, sending the sniffling Rory back to his spot in the crowd.

"Rowan Loranger!" he declared, standing next to me. He was taller than I was, even though he was a year younger, but that was probably based on the fact that I was short for my age. He looked very confident indeed, jittery with nerves and almost bouncing on his toes.

"And how old?" Mora questioned next.

"Seventeen," Rowan replied, grinning from ear to ear. "I will win the thirty-sixth Hunger Games!" His confidence was almost too much to comprehend. So he thought he could actually win? I smiled smugly. Then let the Games begin.

* * *

We were led to the Justice Building to say our goodbyes- of course, I only had my mom, dad, and Ferne, since Azo had died a few years back and I hadn't gained any new friends. The place was really large and we crossed so many hallways I grew almost bored.

Finally we reached the rooms we were designated in. I sat alone in the room on the right, drumming my fingers on my knees in what was probably nerves, until my family came in. Ferne was the last to enter, and her eyes were horizon-red from crying; her foggy eyes threatened more tears to come.

"Ferne, c'mon, can't you give me a little more hope?" I teased. "I'm going to the Hunger Games, I'm not gonna just collapse in the middle of it from your lack of cheering."

"You won't be able to hear me cheer," Ferne pointed out, blowing her nose.

I shrugged, a bit irritated but trying not to let it show. "Yeah, sure, but I need to know that you _will_ be cheering."

Ferne stared at me, thinking for a moment. Finally, she blustered, "I guess I will."

"Great motivation." I clapped her on the back, thinking the exact opposite, but with or without her wishes, I was going to be the winner. I was going to show the Capitol how terrible they were and maybe I'd bring them down.

My mom hugged me tightly; it seemed to last forever. She said, "I love you so very, very much, honey. Please, try your hardest." She hesitated, looking down. "I know you haven't much training... but, well, you're good at gymnastics, aren't you?"

"Yes," I confirmed obediently.

"Then good." My mother cupped my face with her hands, looking straight into my brown eyes. "Remember, in the Bloodbath, do not get supplies. Run for your life, or there will be a Career out to get you near the Cornucopia."

I nodded fervently. I already knew all that. I wasn't so sure about the supply thing; I just hoped the cameras didn't catch me running to the Cornucopia, because I was sure I'd starve to death if I didn't get supplies.

My father cleared his throat gruffly. "You can do it, Lace. We all believe in you." We exchanged a brief hug and I felt my eyes sting.

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered, feeling the reality sink down on me and my strength weaken. I could not keep this up any longer...this mask that going to the Hunger Games was no big deal. I probably would never see my parents again.

"I love you too, Lace," my father wouldn't even look at me as he said these sorrowful words. "Remember that in the arena."

With those departing words, my family was ushered out. The last thing I saw of them was Ferne's black hair, disappearing around the corner. Perhaps forever.

 **7/25/17**


	7. District 1 Reaping

**DO NOT SUBMIT ANY MORE CHARACTERS, EVERYTHING IS RESERVED. Tysm for the reviews guys, I really appreciate it! :)**

* * *

 _ **Skyrah Labelle (D1 Female)**_

"Guess what we're doing today," was how my father would start every one of our training sessions. I thought for a moment at what we had done all the previous days. Spears, archery, all sharp things. I had a feeling today would be something similar.

My first guess was, "Swords?" I was pretty good at swords, but there was always a time when I could sharpen up my skills.

Father shook his head. "You're already pitch-perfect at swords, there is no need." Huh. He actually gave me a compliment. That was a first. My heart lifted instantly.

"Oh...then knives?" I guessed. I wasn't so great at knives, since there were always different ways you had to hold them, and they just made me feel self-conscious.

His eyes glinted approvingly. "What kind of knives, Skyrah?"

My answer came quickly- this was the only kind of knife-fighting we did anyway. "Throwing knives."

"Excellent. I see you've got your memory back." In a flash, Father whipped out a knife from behind his back. It looked fairly ordinary, with a slender wood handle made easy for the grip, and a sharp edge, reflecting off the walls.

He handed it to me and I took it, wrapping my fingers around, my pointer finger slightly tilted to hold the weight. It wasn't exactly heavy..but I had to summon up strength to throw it, so being light as possible was a plus in these kinds of knives.

"Now," my father began solemnly, his usual gruffness back. "I want you to hit the target." He nodded to the circular wooden board with red and white circles going one around the other. We had used it for archery before.

I positioned my stance, my right foot just at the edge of the yellow tape marking the farthest you could go. I wasn't so sure I could make it, and I definitely didn't feel up to receiving Father's disapproval. My breath quickened, nerves bouncing all around me.

"Three...," Father counted down. "Two... One... GO!"

I grabbed the sheath of knives and hefted it onto my back, wincing at the sudden weight. I wasn't exactly small, but I wasn't that strong either. Long range combat would be one of my weaknesses. My mind flitted back to the "curse" Mother worried all about.

The "curse" was basically that my family had had a tradition, and my parents had broken it. A member of my Father's family had to volunteer for the Games every four years, and the female assigned a lover by their father, whom they would eventually marry and have kids with. My dad had befriended a co-worker of his and she had had a son named Ray. Ray, who was now my "lover" or whatever. He was..terrible, to say the least. He stole my jewelry to sell, cheated on me, all that. Therefore, you can tell why my life is just miserable.

One by one, I grabbed a knife and flung it at the board. The first stuck right into the ground. I didn't stop there. There was a repetitive sound of _thwacks_ as each knife hit the board, its metal part clinging to the wood. Some fell straight down from the board, not having enough force to dig it far into the wood. Others sliced clean through.

"STOP!" roared Father. I immediately obeyed. This was when he was in a temper, and I didn't want to be stuck in the middle of it.

"Whoever taught you such knife skills?" he yelled. "You are holding it _completely_ wrong- stop trying to cheat and hold it the right way!"

Nodding timidly and clenching my jaw to hold back the tears of frustration, I moved my pointer finger to rest on the top. "I-is this—"

"It'll have to do," he said dismissively. "NOW HURRY UP AND GET SOME PRACTICE IN BEFORE THE REAPING!"

Trying to ignore my father's troublesome shouting, I drew my arm back and threw it with immense force at the board. It stuck in the third circle, which was really good in my standards. In Father's...not so much. He muttered a whole bunch of stuff about me being incompetent and then sat back to fume silently.

The rest of the training session was the same—I got in a couple throws that landed decently, but most of them were crooked. I picked up the knives and stored them in the sheath, blocking out my father's harsh scolding.

"This year's your year," Father ranted. "You better be ready."

My doubt swarmed like bees in my mind, but I put in a confident face and nervously crept out. Getting ready for the Reaping was always the same- my father made me wear extravagant dresses, made me look extra showy.

But this year, well, let's just say the dresses were a _lot_ more fancy. And when I say a lot, I mean a _lot_. These dresses looked as if they were something the Capitol produced, not District One.

It was this fancy purple dress, complete with matching leggings, striking violet shoes, and a bunch of ribbons in my medium-length black hair. I looked like a royal queen of some sort, the image my father always followed every year.

My sister, Toni, walked over with a slightly nervous smile. "You're going to the Reaping this year, aren't you?" she asked in a low voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. _I can do it. I can do it. I can...not do it._ Ugh, I wished my confidence levels were a tiny bit higher.

Toni hugged me tightly. "Don't worry, we're District One! Of course we'll do good. And besides, we've already got tons of victors. You'll just be the same."

"You really think so?" I mumbled, pessimistic thoughts running through my head.

"Yes," Toni said seriously. She was very mature for her age, maybe because of the Hunger Games, or from my influence, I didn't know which.

I smiled slightly. "I'll try my best."

"Yes, you will," Toni responded.

The doorbell rang and I went to get it. My heart skipped a beat. No, not in _that_ kind of way, in the way that I was irritated and angry. Ray was my assigned "lover", but heck, no we did not _love_ each other. Maybe in an alternate universe, but never here.

I pulled open the door and welcomed him in. He gushed things like, "Oh, it's so _great_ to see you, Skyrah!" and " _Love_ your dress." I wanted to punch him so bad.

My parents came over, got under his spell. I could see the dark glittering of his eyes as he said it all, though, could almost feel the evil intent.

We made our way to the Reaping, me feeling like it was the last time I'd ever see my little sister, behind us, again. The dress made it hard walking, so I had to kind of lift it up with one hand. I desperately wished I didn't look too showy, but even so, I was attracting attention rapidly.

Ray was just about the most opposite anyone could get from me- he had no manners whatsoever, foul-mouthed, and generally _terrible_. I hated him so much, but it wasn't like I could do anything about it, because Ray acted like an angel around my parents, so I couldn't exactly complain. I just put up with it the best I could.

Ray usually never came over unless it was a special occasional or he wanted to freaking _sleep_ with me. Ugh, hating him was an understatement.

We chose spots in the crowd and settled in; the Reaping began a little while after. Our attention went to the stage.

The escort was one of the most loved people here in One. His name was Jorge Monroe, and pretty much all the girls here had a crush on him. Except for me, of course. I could never really fully trust any of those people after the Games and Ray.

My family could be considered to the more wealthier side, but with the "curse" over us, most people disrespected us. My social life wasn't exactly great, either, because Father made me train day and night, around the clock.

Jorge Monroe gave his signature smile, bright as the moons from whatever teeth cleaning they use in the Capitol. "Hello, hello, my friends!" he cried out. A cheer rose from the crowd- me and Toni didn't join in, of course.

Ray shoved me and I gave an unenthusiastic shout, anger swelling just under the surface.

"Ladies first!" called out Jorge. A flurry of excitement rose among the girls'. Ever since Jorge had become the escort, replacing the old man we'd had before, there had been more people fighting to volunteer, because they wanted to impress him. I wondered if I could even be the first to do it. But I had to save my mother, Toni, and I from the curse. I had to try.

Earlier, my mother had been trying to convince me not to volunteer, but I'd stubbornly refused. The curse would never lift if I didn't do what I had to. We couldn't run away without the money.

Jorge chose a delicate piece of paper and unfolded it quickly. "Opal J—"

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!" I shouted as loud as I could. Everyone swiveled around to stare at me and my showy dress. Not many people knew me, and I hadn't trained at the Academy. There must've been a designated volunteer, who hadn't gotten the chance.

I made my way up to the stage, wondering what Ray's reaction might be. Probably really happy that I was going into an arena to get myself killed, I thought bitterly.

Jorge beamed. "Name, please?"

"Skyrah Labelle," I told him, trying to smile for the sake of the cameras and the pride of District One. They usually always had blonde, beautiful tributes, not ones with glasses and braids.

"Our _girl_ tribute!" Jorge swept an arm magnificently, and I felt everyone's eyes burning into me. I hoped I wasn't turning tomato-red right now.

"Now to the boys," Jorge announced. I saw him reach into the glass bowl from my perfect vantage point on the stage. The bowl was actually smaller than it looked from the crowd.

Jorge snapped open the paper and declared, "Mark Seashire!"

Somebody moved to get to the stage. He was the typical tribute, dark brown hair messed up in the way that boys think looks cool, piercing dark blue eyes, tanned skin.

"Our _boy_ tribute!" said Jorge loudly. Applause greeted him this time, but it looked more genuine than for me. I could see why.

The Peacekeepers swarmed around us and walked us to the Hall where goodbyes were said, and tears were shed. But in District One, there could be no such thing as tears.

* * *

 _ **Mark Seashire (D1 Male)**_

I sat on the velvet blue couch, leaning back against it with a sigh. It had been extraordinarily hot out, and I was glad to get some good air-conditioning, much better than the ones at home. Sweat still beaded my forehead from the heat.

I smirked. I still couldn't believe I had snagged first place by charmingly persuading my teacher that I was much better than that Epic Lawrence. I was _obviously_ better.

My family came in first, my mother and father. Mom exclaimed, "You are going to bring it home this year, honey, I just _know_ it!" while my father's eyes shone with pride.

"I knew you'd find a way to convince your teacher that you're the true best," Dad remarked. "Mark, you are going to do it, you are going to get first place and bring us home all the riches of the Capitol!"

I smiled smugly at them. "Of course I am."

Mom gushed, "My confident, sweet little baby!" and blinked adoringly at me. I laughed inside. Wow, it was so easy to manipulate their feelings.

"Mommy loves you so, _so_ much!" she added, her voice honeyed and sweet. Almost as if she were talking to a toddler. Couldn't they see I'd grown up?

"You are going to win, son," Dad stated it as if it were a fact. I knew I was going to win, I didn't need anyone to tell me that.

"We got you a token, just in case you get homesick and start thinking abut Mommy and Daddy," Mom continued, passing me a small wooden ball. I stared down at it unblinkingly. It had my mother and father's names carved into it, for whatever reason I did not know. I made note to throw this away as soon as possible because it seemed just _ridiculous_ compared to the previous tributes' tokens.

"Have fun in the arena!" Dad exclaimed, a note of cheerfulness in his voice. I scoffed. The arena wasn't going to be hard, but it wasn't going to be so easy he needed to treat it as some daycare event. This was serious. Did he think I was having a child's playdate or something?

I just smiled and said, "Oh, I will, Dad."

Mom cooed, "The experience will be good for you, darling. You'll be famous and rich at a young age."

"I know," I grinned.

Just then the Peacekeepers came in and my parents were ushered out. Thank goodness. I had had enough of their little thing where they acted like I was a baby and I didn't know how to count. I was _seventeen._ Surely that was age enough for my parents to stop worrying about me and putting a curfew. I could do things myself, not have everyone bossing me around.

Which was why I wanted to prove to myself that I could survive in the Hunger Games. I could do it alone, I could be independent and survive just _fine_.

It was still kind of coincidental that I was the chosen tribute for this year and I had been reaped. Oh well, either way, I would've ended up in the Career Pack, with the other District One tributes. I didn't really care how I got there.

Surviving in the wild was always interesting to me. I'd started training at the Academy, but I hadn't really paid much attention to my studies, sometimes cheating on tests, that kind of thing. I only started it a year ago, and I had only picked up the weapon things. The survival stuff was too boring for me to care much- so I just flew through it and guessed some answers. It wasn't like me, a Career, would ever be hungry or thirsty. I would always have my supplies right at hand, and I would definitely gets loads of sponsors because I was from a popular District. I mean, One made all the fashion stuff for the Capitol, so we were kind of the whole reason they had all those pretty outfits. Of course they'd root on us.

The other people who visited were just some acquaintances and the rare friend I'd picked up in the Academy. Those goodbyes were just us debating whether I was competent enough to get first prize- though I zoned out partially during their words because I was too focused on the fact that I'd actually get to be alone, surviving, for once.

Alone, surviving, in the Hunger Games that I knew nobody had a better reason to go to than me.

 **7/26/17**


	8. District 3 Reaping

_POINTS (if any are wrong please tell me!)_

Author196: 40

kealimepie: 30

hollowman96: 10

AtruxDragneel: 15

GalaxyPika: 15

Muddyboots: 50

jul312: 40

DeadlyHuggles: 50

Bananananananana: 5

BabyRue11: 15

murphyyy2000: 35

Elim9: 10

Jolteon2404: 45

The Wandering Phantom: 10

Poodlenoodles: 5

BloodedInk: 40

EllaRoseEverdeen: 25

Pi Or Pie: 10

MrDauntlessHorse: 5

Lmklein20account2: 10

Guest: 5

 _ **Tyler Kaufman (D3 Male)**_

One slice of bread was enough to send me into a temper tantrum. And it wasn't because of the quality, it was because of the sheer amount. The only thing I would get to eat today were breadcrumbs, I thought moodily.

I knew that here in the Districts, I had to toughen up or whatever, but the Capitol's horribleness was just so frustrating I could _scream_. Why couldn't we have decent food? Why couldn't we have enough to fill our stomachs? We were the ones doing the work here, after all!

I stomped into the kitchen and sank down onto a chair, glaring at the slice of bread. My mother and father and sister were all there already, slicing it up and setting it around the table. I accepted my measly slice with a pout. I had always been the younger one, of my two siblings. One had died, another was nineteen and working hours upon hours a day. It was not _fair_.

"Can I have more? Can we _get_ more?" I cried to my mother.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's all we've got. We couldn't afford our usual breakfast today- you know how serious your father's broken ankle is." I scowled across the table at dad, who was hobbling around, a pitcher of rank-smelling milk in his hands.

I looked down at my small cup of milk and forced myself to chug it down, even though the taste was enough to send one vomiting. I didn't even like milk in general, so bad milk was just... _ew_. Next I devoured the bread, the crumbly and tasteless thing going down my throat way too fast.

The whole meal was intermingled with a sense of annoyance and frustration. I swear I could hear my stomach rumbling the whole time, pangs of hunger blazing through my bones. I would have to put up with it for the rest of the time at the Reaping. I could just feel the sun's immense heat burning down from the sky.

I put on the only pair of shoes I owned—gray sneakers that made a squeaky sound every time you put your foot down—and got ready to leave. It seemed that my entire family was extra nervous today, because my sister and I were still eligible in the Reaping.

"This is my second-to-last year," I muttered to myself. "Not much chance of getting chosen if I haven't before." Then a selfish desire overtook me that I was the one ruling the Capitol, that _I_ was the one with all the power. Gee, that would be awesome. Awesome, but not possible in the slightest.

The air outside was damp, streaks of cloud worming its way across the sky. I had a feeling rain was going to come, and soon. I hoped it wouldn't be in the middle of the Reaping—hot, July showers were not exactly preferable when you were been soaked to the bone.

My mom tried to act cheerful for the rest of us, but I could see the strain in her tight jaw. "Come on, you two! Time for the Reaping!" she exclaimed brightly. I scowled. Sure, optimism could be helpful sometimes, but in times like these, they just served to make me even more depressed.

We padded down the street, obedient little dogs in search of a meal. Our meal would be a victory, our tributes' Games would be the long journey it took. Most of the dogs would fail; only one to find the riches.

I almost tripped over my own feet as we filed into the Square, loads of people taking up every square inch of the place. Three was a larger District than most, needing workers to make the technological stuff for the Capitol and all that.

I had a small amount of friends, but not many people hung around me besides. I wasn't popular in the slightest, and I bet half the people here didn't even know me. _Stupid Capitol. Stupid Hunger Games. Stupid Districts._

Haydn Foxel stood at the front, our escort. Many people were bitter about the fact that the Career Districts skipped their own and just went straight to Four. I couldn't help but agreeing- what was so wrong about Three?

 _Everything_ , I thought ironically.

They took our their rage on Haydn, throwing rocks at him, but a few Peacekeepers went over to solve the problem. A few gunshots rattled the air, smoke filling my nostrils. I coughed despite myself, soot falling like a blanket onto the ground in its wake. The rocks being tossed at Haydn stopped.

Haydn would be part of the of the unattractive category in the Capitol, though still a long way better than us ragged people. It was clear his face was powdered white, and his eyes looked like an operation gone wrong: bulging out of its sockets like frogs' would. However, his hair gleamed healthily, his figure sturdy. Kind of to the lean side. A fine bit of muscle.

Haydn shouted for our attention, and we all snapped to focus like a spring. I glared with vehement hatred at him; I could hear a couple of my friends whispering, "Hey, man, cool down." Cool down? As if! Sure, I would never be the one to start a rebellion, but if somebody did, I would gladly join in.

Following the video, Haydn gave a speech about our previous victors, then proceeded to draw out the girl tribute. Quick as lightning, he unfolded it and called, "Calamity Astrea!" except when he said "Calamity" he pronounced it "Cala-mity", not "Ca-la-mity". I rolled my eyes. Typical Haydn.

The girl, Calamity, looked different from typical Three tributes. She had light brown skin and naturally curled dark brown hair. Her eyes were the color of deep, dark chocolate, her form a bit like Haydn's, but not muscular.

She started tearing up real bad, so that the only thing you could hear was a bunch of heavy crying. Her brow was knitted together in anger, eyes red and stormy.

Haydn cleared his throat loudly once she stumbled to the stage, declaring that he was about to draw out the boy tribute and we should all ready ourselves. I tensed up, and so did all my friends on either side of me.

"The boy tribute is Tyler Kaufman!"

"Oh, s***." I wasn't expecting to get chosen, but now the reality was right on my shoulders. Now I was the dog, and I was the one walking to my death. My hands shelved deep into my pockets, I tripped over my feet walking to the stage.

 _How can this be? I can't be chosen! There is no way- this is all a dream. Somebody must volunteer for me..._

I looked out across the sea of people, and didn't see one sympathetic face but my friends and my family. I gulped. I didn't want my friends volunteering...

They didn't. They just stared right back as I swallowed my saliva and choked on oncoming tears. Somebody will volunteer for me. Somebody will volunteer for me. Those thoughts raced through my head. _This cannot be. I am not going into the Hunger Games. I am not!_

I shook hands with Calamity- her palm was glistening with sweat, same as mine. _I'm dying, I'm dead, I'm too young to die..._

* * *

 _ **Calamity Astrea (D3 Female)**_

"Honey!" my father called out. I turned around, not expecting to hear his voice.

"What?" I said snootily. He frowned at my, um, what was it, _temper_? Most likely not that. But then again, being polite was far from my range of thoughts. I had wanted to grab a book and just read until the Reaping, but it seemed like my dad had other plans.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you if you would mind helping clean the lab," he said apologetically. "It's getting quite messy..."

"Alright, alright," I replied, pushing myself to my feet and ending this with a spectacular roll of the eyes. "Let's go." Dad raised an eyebrow, but led the way to the lab without a word. It felt so eerie and silent here, but also perfect for my thoughts to wander through the air. I could think clearly here, without all the disrupting noise.

That is, until Dad declared, "So, Calamity, there's a bucket and sponge right in the corner right over there. All I need is some scrubbing done on the glass—wouldn't want it to get all grimy. Also, the floors need to be brushed and mopped, and the counter wiped."

I muttered something like, "So am I your personal servant?" from the annoyance of having the stillness around me split, but got right down to work anyway. Careful not to touch any of the fragile testing equipment, I reached out and grabbed the white rag that hung limply on the side of the sink.

I spent the rest of the time lurking in my daydreams and fantasies as I scrubbed the glass clean, my hands working mechanically to make this place _shine_. Lost in those daydreams, I didn't notice that my mother had stepped in. Her name was Callie, and she was warm, kind, anything you'd expect a mother to be.

"Hon'," Mom said tentatively, "it's time for the Reaping."

I snapped out of my brief trance and stared at her like she'd gone mad. "The Reaping. Right." I gave a sharp nod and we exited the lab together, without speaking. I wouldn't say our mother-daughter relationship was that good, but it was kind of just, mostly nonspeaking, we divided the chores between us. It worked efficiently, we got stuff done.

"We have our special Reaping Day breakfast," Mom began to fill in the silent gaps between us. "Waffles with butter."

I wasn't really intending to talk at all on the way back home, but I supposed it made pleasant conversation. "Waffles with butter sounds good," I replied simply.

Mom smiled softly. "Good." Her words fell into thin air as we walked our way back home, nothing more exchanged. I was deep in my daydreams; Mom was likely thinking about something else. Either way, we got there mutely, opened the door and stepped over the threshold.

My stomach was growling out of sheer hunger, and I couldn't wait to eat. A couple plates were set around the table for me, my mother, father, and younger brother Andie. I bit into the waffle, and a delicious taste filled my mouth. We never ran out of decent food, I thought.

Afterward we just set off to the Reaping, content and full. I wasn't even in the mood to walk all the way there; the only thing I felt like doing was taking a long, refreshing nap. But the Capitol ordered that everyone must come, and what if my name was drawn and I wasn't there?

I left my parents and brother to go to the sixteen-year-olds cluttered in a group near the back, while Andie joined the thirteens. I wished my birthday was earlier so that I could technically be seventeen by now, since this was my seventeenth year, but such miracles did not happen in a world of cruel judgement.

The Reaping flew by quickly. I was sweating from head to toe because of the humid air, plus my purple blouse was being soaked through by the rain. The fool Haydn began to draw names, and that was when my ears perked up.

Because the words that came out of his mouth, "Calamity Astrea," was unbelievable.

I didn't care that he'd said my name wrong. In that moment, I wanted to scream. My friends all gasped at me- friends I had met outside of school because I was home-schooled. I could see the clear looks of shock on their faces, however much they tried to hide it with nervous smiles.

Then the sobbing began, tears filling my eyes from the thought of having to fight in the Hunger Games. I let the tears fall without even caring, all my anger directed toward the Capitol reddening my face. This- could not- be happening.

Haydn cleared his throat but I was too busy surrounded by my own woes to even care who the boy tribute was. He would just be another person I would have to kill to win. It didn't exactly matter, in a way.

The boy was a redhead whom I did not recognize. A look of stunned disbelief was imprinted onto his face, and it seemed as if it would stay there forever. I felt the same- as if I could never be happy again. And I never would.

I reached into my hair and pulled out a dully-glinting silver hairpin, one I had gotten from my mother earlier this morning. Instead, I pinned it onto my blouse. It was something my mother had touched, and with that, a feeling of hope came, that she would be coming into the arena with me from an inanimate object.

Just a pin, but with much more meaning. And that was all that mattered.

 **7/31/17**


	9. District 10 Reaping

**Please do not read SYOT forms in the reviews to avoid getting spoilers. xD Also, we have a new wiki! You can check it out, it's called: frozen - alive . wikia . come(without the e) /** **wiki/Frozen_Alive_Wiki**

 **Without the spaces.**

 **P.S: I had a dream few nights ago that all the reviews from this story were gone. Lol. xP**

* * *

 _ **Dahlia Rhodes (D10 Female)**_

 _I was ten._

 _I was working with the cattle when a sudden scream jolted me up. Mom ran over and began hauling me out of the barn- for no apparent reason, it seemed. But this had happened before, I should know.._

 _"Go! Out!" Mom shrieked. I had never seen her like this...she had always been a kind, distant presence in my life, nothing too close to me... And here she was, yelling for me to get out? Then a sudden scent pierced my nostrils and I coughed._

 _The acrid, bitter scent of smoke._

 _I knew what this was...this was the fire... oh, no.._

 _These thoughts barely registered in my head as I was yanked out into the open. Smoke, huge clouds of it, rose up from the mess. A little orange flare was burning down the right side of the barn, destroying it to nothing._

 _I looked at my shoulder. No burn._

 _"I have to get them!" I heard myself screaming. Mom rushed forward to hold me back, but I was too fast. I sprinted toward the barn, into the smoke smell._ I can save them _, I thought, eyes watering from all the ash and soot in the air._ I'm a fast runner.

 _They were all tied to the back wall, mooing in panic. I hurried up to them and found the tight knot. How long would it take me to untie it... My hands worked quickly, ripping at the cords binding the cattle. I got three out and they all bounded away, a thunder of moos in the air._

 _I had to get the last few out... my fingers fumbled, and I could see a spray of sparks to my left...had to get this out..._

 _There! I finished up the last knot and grabbed as many of the equipment as I could see. Ropes, coils of string, anything that got into my line of sight. I got a bunch of our family's old metal pails that were used to get water, and then dashed back out._

 _The hallway was empty, all the cattle having found their way out. I was so glad at that moment, I didn't even care that the sparks were lashing out at me, singeing a scar of burns right then and there. I could feel the scorching pain all the same, despite the victory. The metal smell filled my nose until I thought I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating in this hot, fiery air...I would be burned alive..._

 _I ran immediately for the other exit, then found it barred by a few fizzling sparks. I wasn't going to chance my luck my running through those sparks..._

 _But the wall of fire was getting nearer, I could see it as I turned around. Oh no no no no..I was going to be trapped and there would be no way out. Fire on one side...sparks on the other... Could I jump over those sparks? No, what if they burned my feet? The sparks could quickly turn into a full-gone fire. I couldn't risk setting it._

 _The smoke was such an acrid scent that, sputtering among coughs, I felt like giving up. All the breath had been sucked out of my lungs- I could see that my skin was burned raw and red.._

 _And then..._

 _and then..._

 _The fire licked my shoulder. My first feeling was that of a puppy dog's. But then the pain came in, blistering and bubbling on my skin. I let out a scream, hoping somebody could hear me, but doubled over coughs almost instantly after. Would I make it? Oh, why had I done such a foolish thing..._

 _Pain scorching my shoulder, I ran for the sparks, not caring if I got singed. It would be better than a definite death, of being roasted alive. I leaped over as if I were flying and landed safely on the other side._

 _But...something was wrong... The sparks were now turning their direction, chasing after me as if I were a magnetic pole and they were a hunk of metal. Had this happened before? I couldn't even think in my dream... This...was...all...a...dream._

 _I would open my eyes sooner or later, I told myself. Everything would be fine._

 _I ran for my life, across the lawn grass. Wait, where were my parents? They were supposed to be here, helping me! Oh, no, I was alone... and the sparks were eating up the grass, creating a wall of fire fueled by the wood of the barn. Its roaring sound was almost like waves, like a giant fire tsunami._

 _Then the sparks caught up, burned into me and I screamed. I was among the fire now, and I would most certainly die..._

 _Then an icy cold mist washed over me. Panting, I looked up, into an evergreen forest of emerald color. The sun was pale and welcomed no light into these shadows. There was a path leading down into the forest, and I took it. But then all of a sudden..._

I woke up, sweat sticky on my skin. Why did it feel so hot here too...

Then I remembered. It was Reaping Day.

* * *

"Mom! Dad! I'm leaving!" I called as I raced out of the door. I was so excited to go and just talk to the other people that breakfast had gone down quicker than expected. I guess you could call me outgoing, the kind of person who loves people. I wouldn't blame you.

They accepted that quality about me, because they liked how I always made new friends, etc.

The day was bright, sunny, and hot, and soon my clothes were sticking to my back from sweat. It was summer, so that was reasonable. I didn't exactly mind summer, but the heat was still a minor annoyance. Especially when it reminded me so much of... _fire_.

I better not think of that.

I wouldn't say I had a best friend, because within my friend circle was a bunch of people that all hung out equally with me. There was this new girl called Mia, who had been homeschooled all her life up until now. I wanted to get to know her better.

I walked up the lane to her street, checking the address on the little street sign that was posted in the intersection. Livestock Road. Yep. I turned left and it seemed that a whole new world opened up before me. The road was filthy, looking as if it hadn't been cleaned in a year. The houses were lopsided and with poor structure. Some were teetering on just a couple wooden support sticks. I saw the numbers fly past me, searching for 51.

 _48, 49, 50..._

There it was! I raced over to the house, which was small and more like a cabin kind of thing. It stood apart from all the other houses, and looked abandoned from the outside. Probably because Mia had been homeschooled and not with the rest of the community's schoolwork. Then again, I thought wryly, I didn't exactly take my schoolwork seriously either.

I rapped on the wooden door, almost afraid to knock for fear of sending the door crashing to the ground. But it was sturdier than I had thought, not moving an inch as I knocked, harder, again. Were they even in there?

"Mia!" I called on emphasis.

Finally, a plump woman answered the door, eyes wide- I didn't know why. She looked almost scared as she gazed at me, her carrot-colored hair messy atop her head. The shape of her face was eerily similar to Mia's. I figured this must be her mom.

"Who- who are you?" she asked in a frighteningly hoarse voice. I couldn't help but cringe.

"I'm Dahlia Rhodes," I introduced myself, confused. Hadn't Mia told her mother that I was to be expected?

"Oh!" The woman's tenseness faded away. "Dahlia. I remember you. You're the one Mia was expecting, right?" She gave a nervous smile. "Come in, come in."

I walked over the threshold and was amazed at how cozy it looked. From the outside, one might think it was abandoned, but here, the housecleaning was done immaculately, no dust anywhere to be seen. The dining room was small, with three chairs around a table. I could smell a faint scent of breakfast, already eaten but leaving its aroma in the air. Mmm. Pancakes.

"Where's Mia?" I asked conversationally, not used to having to talk to jittery, confusing people like her. Usually whenever I spoke, they would respond with a certain mirth, but this woman looked almost downright unhappy.

What was there to be unhappy about? I thought. Sure, the Reaping was today, but that didn't mean the day was completely ruined.

"Mia?" her mom repeated. She went silent for a second, contemplating, then said, "Mia is in her bedroom." She pointed a sharp finger in the room down the hallway. "Down there."

I nodded thanks and headed over to her bedroom, opening it tentatively. At first, I thought Mia wasn't even there, but then I saw her bright, frizzy orange-brown hair and beamed. "Hello!"

Mia popped her head up from whatever she was doing. "Oh! Hi, Dahlia. Come right on in." I slipped into the room, closing the door behind me, and saw that it was actually very small in comparison to mine. There was no window, so it was very dark, but also a good place to just relax.

She posed in her russet dress. I noticed a sheet of fabric the exact same color beside her and my brow furrowed. "So you make dresses?"

"Mhm," Mia replied. She grinned. "What do you think?"

The dress went down to her knees, but it was mostly just plain. There were no decorations or anything, just some red fabric made into a dress. The stitching, I noticed apologetically, looked almost about to come apart.

"It's- good," I managed. "The red, though, it kind of clashes with your hair." I thought for a moment. "I mean, I bet it would probably look better on me. Since I don't have red hair and all."

Mia frowned down at her dress. "So you don't like it?"

"No, no, it's okay...just, I'm adding some criticism." I smiled. "It's always good to have some criticism." Mia seemed to be a _very_ complex person, I thought. A bit narrow-minded, but also intelligent in the way she gazed thoughtfully at the dress.

"Oh, if you insist." Mia sighed, eyes darting to my own costume. I was dressed in a farmer-style, with a straw hat, a white button-up shirt with no sleeves, and a blue skirt coming all the way down to my thighs. A bit of a weird match, but it would do.

Mia tilted her head at me, studying me in that odd pensive look that made me a bit self-conscious. "Arrogant, are you?" she said finally.

I gaped at her. I hadn't expected her to say something so strange as that. My mind quickly came up with a logical answer and I answered, "If you say so."

Mia fingered her dress, eyes wide and harshly green. "Um, let's get going. I-I want to get there early." The corners of her mouth pulled into a guarded smile. "Come on." She got to her feet, pulling me up with her, and I wondered why she was acting so weirdly. It was almost like she was...hiding something.

* * *

 _ **Murray Keyes (D10 M)**_

"So who was the soldier you were fighting?" I asked eagerly, prompting for a response. I loved listening to my grandfather's stories of being a rebel soldier, they were so interesting and really the only form of entertainment I got besides.

Hudson frowned, deep in thought. I imagined what it must be like for him to have so many memories. Did it feel good or bad? Did he wish he didn't have those memories? He said carefully, "He was a Capitolite for sure. Brown hair dyed a striking blue..." His eyes hardened. "I remember his expression the most. It was almost mocking me, as if he didn't care one bit about this battle. He knew the Capitol was going to win. He knew it all along. This was simply a game in his eyes."

My eyebrows furrowed as well. "That's terrible," I said breathlessly.

"It is," was all Hudson responded with. "On a brighter note- what are you after now?"

I grinned. I always had a target I was going for, a goal that I would never rest until I achieved it. "Not being chosen as tribute in this year's Hunger Games," I told him.

Hudson gave a, "Hmm." His bright eyes fixed on mine in a way that was intense, almost disturbing. "Well that's an interesting one."

He knew more than anyone that he should definitely never tell me that I couldn't. I could do it, and I would do it. "It's not so hard," I protested. "All I have to do is avoid getting picked." Determination flamed inside me, and I knew I could do it. There were tons of people out there that could get picked! Why me?

 _Because you won't be picked,_ my conscience whispered. _If that's your new goal, then so be it. This time, you will achieve it._

"It isn't hard," Hudson said, almost in a puzzled way. A harsh look came into his eyes. "But I know, Murray, more than anyone, that the Capitol is evil. If you are chosen, however, do not start yelling insults to them. Do _not_."

"I won't," I replied easily. "Why would I?" If I got chosen, I would win. I knew I could. But it would be better safe than sorry, and I would never put my life on the line by volunteering, however curious I was. I wanted to see how everything worked. I wanted to see all the fancy Capitol luxuries, all the delicious food, the amazing clothes, how hard it really was in the arena.

I added, "I won't get chosen anyway." These words fell into the air without making a mark. Hudson looked like he was thinking about something but shook his head slowly, dismissing whatever had conquered his mind.

"You won't get chosen," Hudson echoed. My grandfather looked up at the little rusty clock in the corner. "Oh, look, it's time. We better start heading to the Reaping."

I yawned. I had my grandfather's opinion, I had mine, and they were both the same. My spirits were pretty high as we started setting out for the Reaping. I would not be picked, and just live a normal life here, in the District where I belonged.

The Reaping started out normally. I was bored halfway through, and by the time they were picking out the boy tribute, I was looking forward to taking a nap back home. Then I heard the name they called: "Murray Keyes."

Wait, _what_? Murray Keyes? But that was my _goal_! I couldn't just let it rest! I wanted to take off right than and there, but instead, my body moved robotically to the front, a confident smile plastering on my face. If I ran for it, that would be to no avail. Better to just make a good first impression for the Games and to the other tributes...

They would think I was confident, I thought. I added a wave to the crowd, trying to act as a Career would. Everyone always loved Careers.

The girl opposite me, who I hadn't even been able to catch her name, didn't move as the escort prompted us to shake hands.

"Shake hands," she repeated again. It took several tries for her to put out her hand numbly; I shook it somewhat enthusiastically, though I sure didn't feel that way inside. The last thing I saw was the thunderstruck expression on my grandfather's face as I was roughly hauled to the building where we would say our final goodbyes.

 **8/3/17**


	10. District 4 Reaping

_**Algar Black (D4 Male)**_

"Ready...set..." The man in charge of our section paused for deliberate effect. A few seconds ticked through the air; my grip tightened on the weapon. I only had two more chances to get into the Games, win, and bring back the riches needed to support me and my sister.

But first I had to be the top-ranked in the class.

"GO!" Dozens of spears whistled through the air. I flung mine as far as possible, deadly force added to it so it wouldn't stick to the board and then just fly off. The iron tip dug viciously into the center circle at the far side. It quavered for a moment... _and stayed there_.

I exhaled deeply, looking to the other people's boards. Our section was full of boys, all wanting to get into this year's Games. A couple were eighteen and more desperate; I could see the perspiration beading on their foreheads as they stared at their spear gone wrong.

Everyone looked to the one empty target, with a skinny boy of fifteen standing there in front. His arm was shaking indefinitely, and he seemed almost afraid to throw it. Trout Morris, that was his name. A shrimp-like boy who his parents enrolled him into the Academy for the sole reason of getting tougher, stronger. He had started two years ago.

So far it hadn't worked.

I waited impatiently, wanting to hear the results. There were a lot of spears, at least seven, in the center circle. This all depended on complete accuracy and measured down to the last millimeter. I had always been fourth or fifth, never the one to be able to volunteer.

But first that Trout really needed to hurry up. The anticipation was rising in the air of possible District Four tributes, and the scrawny boy was not helping. Finally, he hefted the spear at the target, failing horribly. It didn't even go half the way before dropping to the floor. A roar of laughter jerked through us, cold eyes flashing malevolently in Trout's direction.

A couple crew members came on to measure the spears' precision. At least twenty-five minutes went by before they retreated back to their former positions, handing little envelopes to the man in charge. I always forgot his name, because he wasn't exactly a big part of my life anyway, and I didn't want to get to close to anyone after my parents died.

Let me explain.

I was raised to be a kind person. Not all Careers are bad. Sure, most of them are, but not all. When I was nine, they died in a boating accident, and I had to care for my little sister Olga, who was now thirteen. She had been three then- in those years, we had lived in starvation, barely able to feed ourselves until I relented and joined the Academy. If I won, then it would all be worth it. If I lost... I couldn't think about how Olga would be alone, only an eleven-year-old, maybe sent to some poorly taken care of orphanage. The orphanage was worse than simply wandering the streets. They would get slapped and hurt, and I didn't want that to happen to Olga.

Since my parents died, I hadn't want to get close to anyone but Olga, so that I wouldn't feel the same pressuring sadness all over again. If I put up a barrier between myself and the world, nothing bad would happen with my interference. The only thing I had to do that was relatively important to the world was win the Hunger Games.

The person in charge walked heavily to the front of the room, eyes steely. So far, I had won first place in only two tasks out of the ten- Sword-Fighting and Track. But if I won this one...

I couldn't bear to get my hopes up, though it always happened. I watched him open the envelope, as did all the other trainees, and a voice penetrate the empty stillness around us. A cracking, gravelly voice: "Third place: Reed Hunter."

A muscular boy from the back, who had laughed at Trout, now stood in jittery nerves at the In-Charge's side. My breath quickened. I had to win this...or I wouldn't have a chance in the Games... _Algar Black, Algar Black_ , I prayed.

"Second place," he grunted. The voice was like rocks grinding against each other, hoarse and hard to make out. I strained my ears for my name. "Platypus Miller."

The considerably skinny boy near the front's knees gave out. He surely hadn't expected to win, I thought as he scampered over to stand beside Reed, who huffed at his presence. Would the winner be another muscular friend of Reed's? Or would it be one of the outcasts, like me or Trout..

All of our eyes focused on In-Charge as he pulled open the last envelope, the rest laying discarded at his feet. The flimsy seal broke and a paper was unfolded; on it, two words would be written. The first and last name of the winner of this last round.

"And we have first place...," In-Charge sniffed, looking a bit surprised at the name on the slip. _Please be me, please be me..._ "Algar Black."

Everyone turned to stare at me as I, feeling excitement and determination surging throughout me, made my way to the front. Nobody had expected me to win; in fact, some of them probably didn't even know me. All the smaller twelve-year-old boys craned to see me, eyes wide with awe.

I stood next to Reed and Platypus. The former punched me in the shoulder blade—a searing pain stole through me, but I was in too much exhilaration to care. Platypus tried to pretend indifference, but even he was happy that I had won and not one of the bullies Reed hung out with.

"Class dismissed!" In-Charge roared. "Listings will be posted at the front office."

The crowd surged out, each struggling to get to the office so that they could see the final results. I had won three...surely that was the most in the whole Academy for Four? I still had to consider all the other sections, but still, I was pretty determined I had gotten the role of Volunteer this year.

Platypus fell in line next to me as we headed for the office, me in no hurry to get there because I was pretty confident I had gotten it. "So," Platypus said in a friendly voice. "That was some trick you pulled back there."

I ignored him and instead quickened my pace, but Platypus easily caught up with my long strides, though he had to jog. "What was it?" the other boy asked. "How'd you do it?"

I avoided his annoying questions, reminding myself that I couldn't get close to enough despite the amount of friendliness in his voice, and veered right to the office, where everyone else was going. The people at the front were turning to stare at me, trying to pick me out throughout the crowd, and I grinned widely. I had gotten it, had I? I had snagged the role of Volunteer.

Sure enough, as my eyes laid on the sheet of paper taped to the wall, everyone stood back to let me see, almost in reverence. It said, in clear, printed words: **Volunteer: Algar Black (17)**. Then there was a picture of me scowling right next to the black letters. I smiled. I had really done it. I was going to volunteer this year, and nobody could stop me.

* * *

Olga and I walked to the Reaping, Olga making plenty of snarky remarks that I had told her time and again to cool off with. She would never listen, of course. She was too excited for me, and that caused her rudeness level to the other trainees (especially Reed) to upgrade fifty percent.

"Stupid Reed," she scoffed. "Thinking _he_ could get the role of volunteer. But you stopped him, Algar, you stopped him from ever being in the Games, and that's why he's so mad at you." She lowered her voice. "You know, the idiot's eighteen this year."

I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't known that. "Eighteen? Well that's... coincidental." I had to admit I was a bit glad I had thwarted Reed's dream of being victor of the 36th Hunger Games, so I eased a little on the ignoring Olga today. She beamed when I answered gruffly, because I didn't really do so on normal days.

"It is," she chattered on. "You know, you're going to win. It's inevitable." She rolled her eyes. "It's _written in the stars_ , you could call it."

"Written in the stars," I mused. "Huh. I never thought you were into that spiritual belief and all that."

She sighed heavily. "Algar!" she hissed. "I'm not! I said it to be sarcastic, but of course, you probably didn't catch that." A look of pride came into her eyes. "Did you?"

"I did. _I_ was just being sarcastic as well," I fibbed, hoping she wouldn't notice my thoughts being occupied and my lack of comprehension in her words. Sarcastic, snarky Olga. Of course she'd be this way since I'd been chosen as volunteer. She'd probably brag to all her "friends" about it.

"Right." Olga's eyes narrowed in that way she had when she knew I was lying.

I changed the subject right then and there. "So, how's home? You...living there okay?" I should expect something of a _no, home stinks_ , I thought.

Olga groaned, fire blazing in her eyes. "The 'home' you're talking about is a seventy-year-old dump that's probably been rotting there for at least a decade and smells horrendous. I think a troll pooped down there or something, the way it smells. And," she added, "it's so hot I could get burned alive."

"Are you sure you'll be okay while I'm at the Reaping?" I asked, a little bit of fretting in there, but I didn't really care. I had to make sure she was all right.

"Don't worry," Olga said, brushing it away. "I will be _fine_."

We walked the rest of the way in silence, Olga starting to make something known and me shushing her. I didn't want to attract attention to ourselves; that would be a nightmare. People staring at us, pointing fingers and wondering why were so poor for such a wealthy District.

I finally spoke when we were among the people, where all the chattering was sure to cover us up. "Olga," I said, "do you think the escort is just really clueless or actually maliciously cruel?"

Olga expressed contempt when she hissed, "That stupid, air-headed thing? Covered up all in makeup and adorning us with sweet words? Oh, no. She is beyond clueless. Not even clueless. More like—"

I cut her off before she could yell a bunch of swear words.

The Reaping began at a bumpy start. Tenseness rattled the crowd, a lot of the boys at the Academy glaring at me, surely expecting themselves to have been the volunteer. Our escort drew out two pieces of paper, one for the girl and the other for the boy.

And then she said, in a silky, purring voice (a bit like a cat's, she even had cat ears), "Misty Shrimp!"

A tall girl walked confidently to the front, knowing that there would always be a volunteer to save her and not caring in the slightest if she was chosen. She would never be in the actual Games, so what did it matter?

Almost at once, another girl shoved her way to the front; she must have come from the back because she looked like she had ran a marathon to get there. "I, Azurine Bahari, volunteer as tribute and victor of the 36th Annual Hunger Games!"

Her gruff spirit was showered immediately by flattering applause, and she just remained emotionless, sweeping a glare across the crowd. She was actually rather small for her height, but with her fiery attitude and harsh gaze, it didn't look like it. She was olive-skinned, her hair dark and thick, pale blue eyes glimmering like two miniature ice cubes. Her strong jawline was clenched, teeth gritting together for some reason I didn't understand.

I prepared myself to volunteer; I could see Olga's beaming face as she waited too. She probably couldn't wait to watch me on national television and win the Games. I closed my fist, an icy chill slipping down my spine. In reality, you could say I was afraid to volunteer. What if...what if I died? This possibility was far from Olga's range of thought.

"Scale Fisher," a soft voice crept into my ears. A tiny twelve-year-old ascended the stage. It was clear that he was trembling, however much he knew there would always be a volunteer.

"I, Algar Black, volunteer as tribute!" I exclaimed as loud as I could, throwing my voice out into the crowd. An approving audience let out a volley of cheers, claps echoing off one another. I had to win this for Olga. I searched out her flushed, horizon-red face in the crowd and at all the determination flaring among the people.

And I let myself believe, just for a second, that I could win.

* * *

 ** _Azurine Bahari (D4 Female)_**

All my life, these had been my smiling, encouraging parents. I would say something like, "I'm gonna win the Hunger Games. I'm gonna bring back riches like my victorious brother." And then my parents would be like, " _You_? You little tiny thing? For heaven's sake, you are a _girl_."

Yes, they were very sexist indeed.

But this year, I had reached the top position in the Academy. That position meant I had to volunteer...which was exactly what I wanted- to prove my parents wrong.

The moment the escort announced, "Misty Shrimp!" I began pushing my way through the crowd, shunting people to the side and then standing at the front, blood boiling. I would show _everyone_ when I volunteered—and won.

I yelled, "I, Azurine Bahari, volunteer as tribute!"

End of story? No. There was still a long, long way to go, and this was just the beginning.

 **A/N: Sorry for the terribly short POV of Azurine! I didn't feel like writing anymore. :P I promise she'll have a better POV in the Train Rides!**

 **8/7/17**


	11. District 12 Reaping

_**Alice Kimminger (D12 Female)**_

I was small for my age, and on the outside, it looked as if I didn't even belong in the grimy place of Twelve. A bright star among the endless black sky..that sounded about right. Or maybe a piece of gold among countless silver.

I was in the merchant class of Twelve, living with my parents who knitted clothes for a living. They owned a small clothing store in the sprawling center of town, where it was pretty well known and we earned a decent amount of money. Our family was small and peaceful, everything I every wanted or needed. With them, it seemed that I could do anything; I loved them very, very much. Even the Reaping could not puncture that everlasting bond.

The store where my parents worked at, and which I would take over once I was old enough, was very tidy, due to my mother's strict rules about keeping the place clean. On one wall, a whole shelf made of wood was crammed with spools of thread, knots of yarn, and any material we could work with. I learned embroidery to make up for my parents' lack of knowledge in that subject, teaching myself and practicing again and again.

I was okay in school, though it couldn't be called a hobby. It was nice to get to know everyone, and it could be relaxing to just talk with them every once in a while, but I preferred the calmness of embroidery better. The result in the end always seemed more worth it than gossiping with friends.

It was on the day of the Reaping that things changed. My life was no longer the easy, day-to-day knitting with my family. Somehow, I had a feeling I would be chosen. I didn't know why, and it was my first Reaping where I could be chosen, so I had zero experience whatsoever. But the feeling itched at me, and it refused to go no matter what.

I was working on a specific embroidery for a customer, one who I disliked with all my heart but tried not to show. It was Wade Jenkins, the loud, obnoxious thirteen-year-old who went to my school and who had a _massive_ crush on me. He had dropped by every day this summer, just to chat, but it made me feel really awkward and self-conscious, plus he wasn't exactly someone I liked...

My fingers were steady from years of practice, whether or not the person standing beside me was a favorite or not. The needle wove in and out of the dull-colored fabric. Wade had wanted me to stitch a rose onto the pocket of his shirt, to which I had retorted that flowers weren't commonly seen on boys' clothing. He had quailed and sputtered that he wanted to be "different", and I had obliged grudgingly.

I hoped he didn't tell anybody at school that I had stitched it, however much I wanted to push away the unwelcome thought. I tried to remain optimistic for the sake of my family, but it was sometimes hard when problems of their own just unraveled before me.

The needle pierced the fabric of the shirt, continuing in tiny stitches until it made up a whole rose twisting across the front pocket. It looked extremely girlish, but I was proud of my work nonetheless. A smile pasted on my face, I handed the shirt over to Wade, who gushed how beautiful it was.

"Oh, thank you so much!" Wade exclaimed, fawning over his shirt. He blushed a bright crimson that clashed horribly with his pale, freckled face, so that it was completely obvious in so many ways. "I like it a lot."

I grinned sheepishly back, glad that he liked it. However much he annoyed me, anybody who appreciated my work was somebody I tried to be nice to. "Thank you," I said, the simplicity of the words irritating me and thinking that surely it would irritate him too.

But Wade beamed instead, lighting up all his features in a way that nothing else could. It brought out his dark green eyes, which, in a neutral expression, would not seem anything important, just there. However, in him smiling, you could see the lime-colored glow, the blacks of his eyes getting darker, the whites getting lighter. His hair, in reality dull sandy brown, was now incredibly glossier, because the light was strong and capturing everything, even the smallest of details, the pale freckles on his nose, the dimples when he grinned.

My heart was basically torn apart with that smile. How could I hate him, interesting, thoughtful, stuttering Wade, when these moments caught at me like a knife? How could I think him annoying when he was so patient, even as I expressed clear dislike of him?

I stammered through a goodbye, anxious to have him leave so that I could gather my thoughts. Wade wasn't really the kind of person I liked, was he? He was annoying, he was irritating—I couldn't believe I was letting these negative thoughts comfort me.

But I hated to think that there was actually something within my heart that had a thing for Wade.

After he had left, I tried to smooth my dress, to no avail. The fabric was wrinkled through and through, and nothing would cause it to flatten except maybe one of the Capitol's instruments. The dress was a color green, one I had had for a long time and we had dug out of the very back of the closet. It was kind of small on me, probably something I had worn when I was ten, though not too bad.

I resumed my stitching, working on anything I could get my hands on. A snowflake had been embroidered into some pale blue fabric, the colors resembling the ice and snow. I decided I wanted it to have symmetrical sides and, the needle puncturing the fabric, stitches began to appear.

I was just finishing up the snowflake as my parents called for me to go to the Reaping. However much I didn't want to go, we all knew it was required of us, with a cost of our lives. The Peacekeepers weren't exactly merciful, being a creation of the Capitol.

We headed out in one group, me skipping along, a spring in my feet. That odd feeling tugged at me, and I tried to push back my anxiety as it came in, swift as a needle. I couldn't feel this way. I would be back home in no time, and we would be finishing the knitting and crocheting...

Those thoughts raced in my head all the way up until the District escort, thin, tall Vera Plosorm, called out in her sweet, lullaby-of-sorts voice, " _Alice Kimminger_!"

 _ **Jackson (Jax) Winters (D12 Male)**_

 _Pain riddled my face._

 _A shattering scream roared through my ears. Who was screaming? Then I realized- was it me?_

 _I was being beat, again and again, as my mother shoved me into the table. I tried to stop myself but I skidded right into the wooden structure and folded over, clutching my stomach and crumpling right then and there. They advanced on me, two soldiers fighting for their own cause, a cause that involved me..._

 _"Why do you take out your pain on me?" I wailed. "Why do you do it?"_

 _There was no answer, just the smug grins on their faces as they slapped me, marks all over my face. Then a sudden ghostly murmur rang in my ears, "We do it for your own protection. We do it to toughen you up, little boy." Something like a memory flared in Mother's eyes. "We do it because she did it."_

 _Who was she? I would think every night. Who was she and how did she have anything to do with Mother and Father beating me? I would always come back with no answer, nothing but loneliness around me, the feeling of heartbreak. She must be very important, if they kept hitting me like this._

 _And one night, I had had enough. I told myself I would stand up against them. The next day passed in a whirl of images and I was swung to the ground, Mother clawing her long fingers across my arm. Angry white marks appeared there, barely visible on my already pale skin._

 _She smiled sickeningly, lower lip curling with contempt. "Oh, Jackson," she crooned. Then her soft voice turned into a sneer and she shoved me into the wall. The impact sent my whole body spiraling into a whirlpool of pain, my head spinning with dizziness. I just wanted to lie down, for my head to stop ringing.._

 _No. I wanted to fight back._

 _As the next hit came, I pushed myself out of the way. An incredulous look blazed on Father's face, and he hissed, "Little boy," then, with the full force of a bull, rammed into me, throwing me onto the ground. I fell to the floor, helpless, my head throbbing uncontrollably. I began crawling away, legs dragging across the ground, wanting to get away from this place as fast as I could..._

 _Mother snarled. "You're not going anywhere." She walked into the kitchen. Curious, I twisted around, to see her emerge with a large knife. Wait...was she going to cut me with it? Fear drove into my veins. I would be sawed in half if that happened! I would die... I began to sniffle, sobs wracking my body. I whimpered, "Please don't hurt me!" but they paid no heed to me._

 _Mother held up the knife so that all its sides flashed cruelly in the light. It was our most prized possession, and now, now it was going to devour me whole.._

 _I began backing away, stumbling across the floor. I tripped over my own feet and turned around just in time to see Mother bring down the knife..._

 _I screeched with pain, tears rolling down my face. A thick sheet of blood lay over my cheek, a burning, searing feeling coming through my entire being. The skin was dripping blood, every cut she made stinging like venom. My eyes watered and red, my face nearly swollen and blood still gushing out, I crawled away, crying for help, sobs dying in my throat._

 _Mother and Father left me, pushing me out into the night, and I touched my face gingerly. My fingers came away crimson, and just the sight of it made me scream once more. Finally, on the strength running out of my muscles, I let myself slump to the floor. Surely death would be better than this endless torment, I thought miserably. Surely..._

 _The next day, I woke up, outside again, my stomach rumbling with hunger. Nobody was there, nobody had helped me, this innocent little boy who was bleeding to death. I clenched my fists, anger poisoning the dried blood on my cheek. I had to go back inside, I had to go clean my face.._

 _Father swung open the door so hard it almost smacked me into the wall before I leaped back in time, chest heaving even with the smallest effort. Father's eyes were lit up with amusement at watching me bleed, and he let me in roughly._

 _"Wash your ugly face," he spat, and I obeyed instantly. I padded over to the bathroom like a wounded kitten, mewling, and slid a small chunk of cheap soap into my hands. The smell was disgusting, but if it would make me feel better, than I would accept anything._

 _Then I realized what had just happened last night. Nobody had helped me, nobody had cared about me, almost bleeding to death from a knife-cut. There was no one in the world who cared... Well then, I thought. I would show them all. When they had their own troubles, I would not help them, I would help nobody but my friends._

 _For my friends were the only ones who cared, and everybody else did not deserve help, if they had not even bothered before. A rage scorched my skin. They would all pay, someday. They would all see, when I stood there, no help coming into me for them, as they were bleeding as well, because they had not tried caring when the same thing had happened to me._

I emerged from the daydream, my best friend Smoke, who was the only thing that kept me sane in the world, shaking me. "Whoa, dude," he exclaimed. "Another daydream?"

I stared at him for a moment, simply blinking, before nodding as the words comprehended in my brain. I was having these daydreams more often now, I didn't know why.. "It's nothing," I added, trying to dispel the curiosity in his gaze. "Just, don't worry about it."

Smoke narrowed his eyes. "What are these daydreams about, exactly?" I groaned; he was onto me.

"It doesn't matter," I said evasively, trying to change the subject. It wasn't exactly something I walked to talk about...and frankly, my friend didn't understand at all. Smoke seemed to see the glaring of my eyes and he quieted, though he looked to be trembling of curiosity.

"Ah, okay," Smoke sighed, coming to a brief silence. Our gazes were directed up to the District escort, who cleared his throat for attention.

Vera Plosorm was a very thin woman, dressed in a brilliant gemstone-blue dress, and in close-fitting black boots that shined with shoe polish. Her eyes were wide and round in almost an expression of curiosity, her dark brows slanting up, lashes thick and bristly over mauve-colored eyes. Her hair was knotted in a tight bun, showing the large gold earrings dangling from her ears, with lips painted rose-red. Her skin was a dark midnight shade, making her dress seem to shine.

"I think Vera's lost a few pounds," muttered Smoke, eyes sliding over to me. He always made this same remark every year, indicating her stick-straight figure, never seeming to plump however more she aged.

I nodded fervently. "She must go on diets every day."

"We can't even afford to go on diets," Smoke observed through a hidden smile. Our voices blended together in the same hushed whispers: "We're kind of starving right now..."

Our friendship went that far.

Vera smiled widely and went to draw out a girl tribute, her fingers reaching through the swirling papers. She chose one and unfolded it in a sweep, declaring the doomed Twelve girl to be, "Alice Kimminger!"

A small, or more like petite, girl stepped forward, biting her lower lip so hard it turned white. She had blonde hair and brown eyes, and a sort of angelic look about her. I felt a small twinge of pity, but I refused to let it bloom. _She was one of the people who deserted me when I most needed help. She is not a friend._

Vera then proceeded to draw out the boy tribute. In a flash, a slip of paper was in her hands, and she was reading the tribute aloud. I barely had time to ready myself before she called, "Smoke Aldernight!"

A deep silence rocked through the crowd. I stared at my friend, eyes wide, both of us frozen. Then Smoke's mouth was open and he was screaming for his mother.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYY!"

Imagine that: a seventeen-year-old boy screaming for his mom. I barely held back my tears and my whole body was numb to the bone. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my breaths coming fast, my pulse quickening.

This couldn't be possible, this couldn't be _real..._

Then I realized something. I could do it. To get away from the District? Easy.

So as Smoke was beginning to weave through the crowd, I shoved to the front and yelled in a sort of anguished tone, "I volunteer as tribute!"

I wondered what my "parents" would think.

 **8/10/17**


	12. District 9 Reaping

**A Quick Author's Note: Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! (Hunger Games plushies to you all!) I really appreciate it, it makes me smile every time I read them, whether it be compliment or criticism. A ginormous thanks to you all! Also, a shout out to all my followers and favorites! If you guys want a shout out by name feel free to ask xP but I don't feel like putting it in here rn because I don't have internet, ya know?**

 **Okay, two more things that I forgot to add loads of chapters before: 1. Calamity is snobbish, yes, but Tyler is not normally like that. He's only nervous for the Reaping. 2. You know the Wiki I mentioned a couple chapters before? I'll include the link again:**

 **PLUS I have a poll on my profile if you want to vote on it. :)**

 **Alrighty, I will quit talking and let you enjoy ze story.**

XXX

 _ **Cornell Wheaton (D9 Male)**_

In Nine, it's something like no other, a vast, mysterious land where we make a living out of such simple things as wheat. Wheat which varies in height, in size, and depends on the amount of care it has received to nourish it into a healthy yellow-brown. The mills would then grind it up, and we would produce things like bread, oats, and grains.

It was very hot, the weather dry and containing a thick layer of dust in the air. Thin trails of the flecked gray stood out against windows, any form of clear material where you could see through was blocked by the infuriating grime.

I lived here with my parents, Andrew and Monika, plus my siblings, Prairie and Barley. I had had another sibling, a brother, who had been sixteen at the time of his death... My mind always tried to erase the last look of terror I had seen on his face: but you could not stop thinking of anything, could only prevent yourself from thinking it. So I procrastinated. I kept myself busy with my jokes, taking care of the family, all that, even as I woke up in the middle of the night, white-faced and sweaty, thinking about none other than my deceased brother Grayn.

The day of the Reaping dawned with blazing sun. Orange streaks pounced on a thick gray, yellow and blue darting in to create a wild painting worthy of prizes. The yellow rays from beneath the sun finally shot through and encompassed everything else, letting its silky strands curl around the orange and gray, light bouncing back and forth between them. The orange was the cat, but in the end, of course the yellow eagle won, its ability to hide and dive upon its prey a sheer advantage.

I yawned widely, not wanting to get up from my spot in bed, but I knew I had to. There was something called the Reaping, and I could not procrastinate through _that_ , unlike Grayn. Peacekeepers would be bound to check every house until they made sure everybody was in the Square.

I slipped into the main part of the house, which still looked a bit smoked from the fire, but we had scavenged everything we could and rebuilt the parts that were broken, and this was what we had gotten in return. The room preserved every square inch of space, the table squeezed into a corner and chairs scattered all around it messily. A rug made of brown and cream thread covered half the room.

My mother stood stonily at the end of the table, not bothering to sit at the high-backed chair, a cup of watery coffee in her hands, the best we could afford. I cheered up because of it; it wasn't often that we got the stress relief.

"May I have some?" I asked lightly, careful not to tread on the teetering boards. Mother's temper had risen a lot these days, because my father had fallen ill recently and our whole family was getting desperate.

Mother nodded mutely, passing me the cup. I drank it quickly, the warm drink filling a hole in my heart. The bitterness was welcomed, its taste beautifully sour. I finished it apologetically, knowing that someone else might've needed it, but refused to let myself stay on the subject. Not now, not ever. Not in this world where the Capitol reigned above everything.

My mom had not said a word as I had drained the cup, only taking it back when I was finished and rinsing it out in the tub of dirty water we kept there for inconveniences, like now when we had run out indefinitely; who knew when Father would get better?

Prairie and Barley walked in silently, their eyes darting all around, thin figures quivering. They had not worked much in the relentless sun; Prairie sewed clothes and Barley tried to help, but it was mostly me that did all the work. Me, Cornell Wheaton.

"Someone's out to get us for sure," Mother muttered depressingly. "Someone's out to get us...all the way up to that fire, yes, it must be true..."

Prairie and Barley exchanged fearful glances, while I fidgeted. We had all thought it had been no accident when the fire had occurred, especially mom and dad, and now it had kind of wore off on us, what with their constant murmuring that had freaked us out at first.

"Mother," Prairie said pleadingly, reaching a hand across the table to touch her arm. She shook mom's arm firmly. "Snap out of it. We all know that already. Now focus on today. It's the Reaping."

Barley beamed at me. "You have any magic tricks to show us, Cornell?" His eyes sparkled with a young child's wide-eyed anticipation.

I smiled back, thinking of which ones would impress my little brother. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I said softly, "Hey, hand me something to use. Anything."

Barley searched around and passed me a spare hairpin, one of my mother's. I thought for a moment, asking Barley to close his eyes so I could pin it behind my finger without him seeing. Then, as his eyes fluttered open once more, I told him that I had nothing at all.

Barley's cheeks flushed pink. "No! You have the hairpin!"

I smiled patiently. "Yes, I do. But I can make it disappear and reappear." I showed him the pin, my fingers curled in a fist, making the illusion that the pin was clutched in my hand, though in reality, it had been pinned behind my thumb.

Barley's pale blue eyes widened incredulously. "Do it!"

I swept my hand across in a series of magical gestures, then showed him my empty hands. "Where do you think it is, Barley?"

"Tell me!" begged Barley, as he always did when he gave up.

I grinned. "It's _behind my_ _finger_." I showed Barley the pin, who dissolved into mirthful giggling. Prairie looked up from her breakfast, brown eyes like pools of syrup. She was the only one of our family who had inherited dad's brown eyes; the rest of us had mother's sky-blue.

"Oh, Cornell, I'm not gonna get chosen, am I?" she said plaintively, her high-pitched voice cracking at the end. She was twelve years old, and this would be her first Reaping where she was eligible. I could see the struggle to stay calm in her face.

"No, you won't," I reassured her. She cast her gaze down, blinking continuously to dispel the tears of doubt.

"I will not," she echoed. "I will not be chosen." She let a small hopeful smile cross her face, but it didn't look so genuine when her eyes were red and her skin flushed.

"Come on," I said, trying to cheer her up. "It's no big deal. Just another Reaping." I gave her a stern look. "And besides, it's almost time to go anyway. You all ready?"

Prairie sniffled a, "Mmhmm."

"Good." I gathered up the rest of us, and we set off. The sun was a burning beacon of light, throwing its harsh rays down upon us, and I squinted through the endless brilliant stream. If only the sun would just weaken for a bit, so that we could at least walk the half mile in shady coolness. But I had never experienced that kind of pity, and all year long the sun was the same, whether it be summer or winter.

I saw my friends and we all went there as a group, footsteps echoing off one another. Mom had been too out of it to come, so it had just been my buddies and siblings. Prairie was letting out occasional squeaks as her feet stumbled across the rough terrain, while Barley bounced along after, not plagued by the same thing which had fallen over his sister and brother. I sighed- Barley was very happy and optimistic, it would just be so heartbreaking when he found out the reality about...well, everything.

Prairie's pitiful treble squeaked, "Cornell, I think I just pricked my finger." She swallowed hard. "What if my finger's broken..."

"Don't be silly," I said, though I shared her fears. Not about her finger, but about the Reaping. As the oldest sibling now, I had to be brave for the whole of them. And for Grayn, too. "It'll take more than just a little prick to break your finger."

Barley piped up impishly, "Prairie, you don't need your little brother to make you feel better, do you?"

Prairie shot a glare at her younger brother. "No, I don't." Her gaze hardened, partially from embarrassment, and she stared stonily forward. They trotted briskly in the direction of the Square, sweat dripping down the faces of them all as the heat pounded down upon them.

I had three friends with me, Sawyer, Gwenith, and Rye. Rye and Gwenith were twins, sharing the same angular faces, dark shadows under the eyes and unruly black hair. Sawyer didn't talk too much, but we both had a common understanding with each other about certain topics, plus he was generally a good listener, someone to give you advice.

Sawyer wasn't that rich; his shoes were scuffed and the soles were almost ripped off from all this walking. Rye and Gwenith lived in the better part of town, where they didn't grow wheat like the rest of us, but instead belonged to a family that sold shoes of all kind. They were strictly forbidden not to sneak some shoes out to poor Sawyer, as they needed every scrap of money they could get.

Sawyer's shoulders were trembling, looking pale as if all the mirth had leaked out of him, leaving just a cold shell behind. I put a hand on his shoulder, saying softly, "Hey. You're not going to get chosen. You're eighteen this year- it's your last year anyway."

Sawyer took a shuddering breath in, then let it out slowly. "I suppose," he concluded timidly, giving a nod of thanks.

I reassured the boys around me that they wouldn't get picked. Rye and Gwenith were filled with a sixteen-year-old's confidence, eyes flaring in indignation at the escort. Then a younger boy of thirteen, who had stepped in beside us some time before, began quivering, shaking uncontrollably so that he attracted plenty of attention. The older kids scoffed at him, remarking with a roll of the eyes, "Toughen up," and I shot a nasty glare at them before getting out my cards.

Bending down to look into his scared hazel eyes, I fiddled with my deck of cards, thumbing through it to find the ones I needed, and did a brief card trick to cheer him up. He sniffled slightly, blowing his nose and wiping his eyes. His breathless murmur, "Thanks for the trick," was barely heard over the roar of the crowd.

I smiled encouragingly at him, my heart swelling with a protectiveness. I really sincerely hoped he wouldn't be picked. "No problem."

My thoughts still lingered on the little boy, praying that he, Rye, Gwenith, Sawyer, and Prairie wouldn't be chosen. I let out a giant sigh of relief when I heard the name.

Then realized it was me.

* * *

 _ **Zahava Doita (D9 Female)**_

I watched the boy tribute as he stepped forward, clearly trying to look intimidating. His fingers twitched like little spiders nervously, however, and that was what gave his inner turmoil away. He was one of the few in the District who I didn't know- I looked on as he straggled forward, almost in a dazed way, coming to the front to stand beside me.

He seemed to have worked in the fields an awful lot, hence his bleached blond hair and darkly tanned skin. A few freckles dotted his nose, and I could see a tiny scar next to his ear. I wondered what that was all about.

Maybe we could be friends, I thought hopefully, pushing away the doubt about the Hunger Games. Mom and dad and Lizzie always said bad things about it, but it wasn't that bad...right? It couldn't be..

We shook hands; his palm was clammy with sweat. I put on an unfazed expression on my face, trying to cheer him up because it was quite obvious that he was not all right, but was trying to tell himself something, I did not know what.

We were led into a wide building to say our goodbyes. I couldn't help but notice how beautiful and richly colored everything looked, how much things transformed once you stepped over the threshold. The carpet was a mossy, darkly green color, kind of like the forest floor, and it cushioned my feet just fine, unlike the plaid ones at home. The walls were decorated so extravagantly you wouldn't believe your very eyes, complete with navy wallpaper and sharp white lights.

It was all so interesting, I thought as I was ushered into another room to wait for my parents and Lizzie, and all my friends. The room was set perfectly, to make a sort of cozy feeling in it, and there was a strange blue haze over everything, because of the blue walls, velvet sofa, and a crackling blue fire.

I sighed, relaxing on the couch. It was so soft and comfy, I wanted to stay here forever. I focused on the good sides, on how wonderful this all was and the amazing experience I would have in the Capitol. I would get to see the amazing advancements that Nine didn't have! I would have fantastic meals and actually know what it was like to be full! I would be dressed in the most beautiful of costumes! I envisioned a beautiful cream dress, layered with tons of fabrics, and a jeweled diamond collar.

Lizzie came in first, twenty-year-old Lizzie with her shiny black hair and lilting chestnut eyes. Now, they were filled with concern, regret, everything I had thought she would never express aloud. My sister hugged me tightly for the first few seconds, neither of us speaking, before she clutched me by the shoulders and looked directly into my brown eyes.

"You have to win this," she whispered, breaking the hug. "You have to win this for me. For Mother. For Father."

I nodded vigorously. "Of course I will, Lizzie! You don't have to worry!" Jaw clenched, I assured her, "I'll win, no problem."

"But you're only thirteen!" Lizzie wailed. I'd never seen her wail before. "Whoever heard of a thirteen-year-old winning the the title of 'winner'?"

I had to admit she was kind of right... Usually the sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen year olds won, not somebody so young as me. I had not seen much of the world yet and I was already forced into this brutal Games, probably doomed to my death.

 _But I mustn't think of that now,_ I thought frantically. _I'll think of that later. Later, I will. But not now._

My mother, Sable, kissed my forehead lightly. "Oh, darling," she murmured, her soft, sweet honeyed voice soothing my ears. I had always loved her comforting presence, the knowledge that she was always there when I needed her. But now, when I went to the Games, I would be alone...

"You must try your very hardest," Sable pressed tearfully. "Zahava, dear, you must come out alive." Tears pricked her eyes and she cried softly, in a rather pretty way as she did everything else. Sniffling, she continued, "Th-think...we couldn't b-bear to see you d-d-d—" She hesitated on the word, its full meaning coming over her. I felt my heart twinge with pity.

"Mother, don't cry," I said forlornly, brushing the tears away.

Sable nodded, sniffing, and retreated back to stand in sorrowful silence with Lizzie. It was so much, so heavy with feeling, that I'd rather they just outwardly sobbed and be done with it. It was at least better than this thick, emotional silence..

Father simply stared at me, trying to keep a detached coolness. His eyes roved over me, taking in the last glimpse of his youngest daughter for...for maybe forever. Then he spoke in a grave, heavy tone, "Zahava, we love you. Know that in the arena."

Lizzie then stepped forward once again, taking something off her finger as she did so. My heart twisted. It was her emerald ring; it only contained a little part of the sacred jewel, and we had considered selling it multiple times, but Lizzie would always defend it, saying that it was precious to her. How she had gotten it, none of us knew, but we just accepted it as a part of our family, however much out wanting to put a high price on its head might be.

Now I looked at the ring through different eyes, not eyes of longing, but eyes that pushed her to set it back on her finger, to do anything but give it to me. Lizzie slipped the ring on my own finger and said in a breathy whisper, "For you."

I looked down at the ring. I dared not hope, for only heaven knows what might happen, how many ways it could jinx, and instead sat staring at the ring, until their visiting time was up.

 **8/13/17**


	13. District 2 Reaping

**Note- My first day of school is tomorrow so updates may come later!**

 _ **Persefone Douglas (D2 Female)**_

Twelve girls were lined up in a row, waiting for the training instructor to drop her hands. They each held a spear, eyes calculating as a viper's, knowing that they were close to making the spot of the girl volunteer. They had all been narrowed down to the final twelve, and the person who was the best...well, that was to be determined.

I was pretty confident I could win, but I kept a serious look on my face, so that I wouldn't get so distracted as to miss when the trainer(also my mom) dropped her hands. I could see her green eyes, the exact shade of a black cat's, narrow as she searched me out, gave me the slightest of nods.

I knew all the girls by name. Luffy, Tina, Madison, Astrid, Bari, Lucretia, Cornelia(who's father worked in District Nine as a Peacekeeper, and where her name had come from), Stormi, Odelia, Peggy, and Mabel. They had all been either my friend or my enemy, some even more than friends, however much I didn't want to admit it.

If I didn't win, I sincerely hoped that Cornelia would. We shared a mutual bond, her having a father, like me, working as a Peacekeeper in another District, though mine was in Six. She was pretty fierce, reckless, and aggressive, and I knew that if she made it into the arena, she would go pretty far, if not the winner. She was standing to my right, her whole body tensed up, grain-colored hair flashing in my vision.

 _Please let me win, please let me win.._ I thought pleadingly. Even though I knew I was going to do good, I still felt a small worm of worry. I was seventeen now, that meant if I didn't win, I would have only one last chance to get in the Games. So I had to do it this year. This year, before my hope would gradually fade away.

Even with my hope gone, I knew I would still try my hardest to reach my goal. It was inevitable that I was to be in the Games, and I was going to bring back riches and glory far greater than anyone could ever imagine. Our last victor had won years ago, and Two was impatient for a new one, a new pride. If all went as planned...that pride could be me.

 _Persefone_ , I could just hear my mother chiding in my head. _You only have two more years._

I shook my head to clear the disturbing thoughts and let all my confidence flow into my rigid form. I could see Luffy exchange terse words with Lucretia, who gave a grim nod in response. I wondered what they were talking about, and why they nod had conveyed so much emotion, more than was necessary, but I didn't let it get to me. Nothing could get to me now. Not when I was so very, very close.

"GO!" The animal shout screamed in our ears, and I almost clapped my hands over them instinctively. Then my mind quickly whizzed back to the present time and I realized that I was the only girl left to throw the spear. Sure that I could make it, I put great force to the weapon, then released.

The spear hit dead center, the target almost shaking from the impact. Bari and Odelia, on my left side, screamed in outrage, staring venomously at their own spears, which had not pounded the target with the same force. They had hit the middle circle as well, but had not worried on going over the top. Had not worried about overachieving.

I smiled smugly. I was surely the tribute now.

My mother's thin lips revealed no emotion, but I thought I saw the faint dart of pride in her glimmering, mysterious eyes. Clearing her throat, she announced swiftly, "Persefone Douglas is the winner to this match. Results will be posted on the board in the office."

A whole bunch of shrieking met my ears, exclaiming things like, "But she's your _daughter_!" "Of course she won!" "It's not _fair_!" If my mother was the trainer, she'd make me volunteer too..."

Cornelia gave me an open smile. "Nice job," she acknowledged, nodding. She was a slim girl, with golden-brown hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were a deep blue that could turn a shade lighter if in direct sunlight. Those eyes...those eyes were what got me.

I blushed hotly. "Thanks."

Cornelia continued, "So, do you want to walk to the Reaping together? I could get a good view of you volunteering."

I dipped my head gratefully. "Of—course," I said slightly, my heart beating doubly fast.

"Awesome," commented Cornelia. "Well, see you then." She smiled, eyes sparkling. "I can't wait."

Brief goodbyes were in order, but I couldn't help but think of her eyes, just those flashing, enthusiastic eyes, the reckless tinge gone from her voice. Could I dare hope..? No, it was impossible. Cornelia, respectful, brave Cornelia, would never like me. And even if she did, it wouldn't be in _that_ way.

The world swam by, me frantically trying to paddle with its quick rhythm. Almost in no time at all, I was meeting her by the door, gazing once more into her amazing sapphire eyes, and we were heading in the direction of the Square.

"You _have_ to teach me how you did that back there," Cornelia said vehemently. "Incredible, the way the spear just flew into the target like that."

"Well, I'm not going to tell you all my secrets...," I clarified carefully, and Cornelia's face fell.

Annoyed, she grunted fiercely, "Well then I don't have to tell you mine either." My heart shattering as her vicious side kicked in and she turned away, we continued along in silence, Cornelia looking like she fully regretted inviting me to come with her, and me staring at my feet.

When we got there, Cornelia didn't say the usual sarcastic remarks she usually did about the Reaping. Instead, she simply stared ahead, lost in her thoughts. I was thinking miserably, _She_ definitely _doesn't like me. I mean, the way she acted back there...it's like the only reason she wanted to be my friend was to know all my secrets, gain all my knowledge, and use them for her own benefit._

That thought was just utterly depressing now.

Finally Cornelia began talking, but I was barely listening. Glumly, I reverted with an, "Oh," but that was all.

She stared at me fiercely. "You're not listening to me, are you?" She rolled her eyes. "I _said_ , the portrayal of yourself isn't going so great today, isn't it?"

I lifted my chin. "I think the portrayal of myself is going great, thank you very much."

"Oh, don't pretend," Cornelia scoffed. "Something's on your mind."

"Maybe, but it's not like I'd tell you."

That remark made us go back to what we were doing before, both of us ignoring each other, a hard silence in the air between us. Just like Cornelia to start using strange words that did not match her mood; she was prone to doing it all the time when they quarreled, which was often. In those moments, I often wondered what I had ever saw in the girl, but then I cooled down and everything turned out all right.

This time, however, it looked like there was going to be no cooling down. Cornelia's face was still red with indignation, and her nose was flaring in that way she was when she was in an unforgiving state. My heart skipped a beat. Did she not forgive me? Did she really think that me not confiding in her was against the laws of our friendship?

Cornelia attempted a weary smile, though it looked definitely forced. "Persefone, look. If you feel that way, just know that I don't want to be your friend because I want to know how you're so good at spears." She sighed. "I admit, it may be most of the reason, but also because...you're just a great friend. Don't..."

I looked at her sharply. "Don't what?"

She turned away. "I don't want you to volunteer. That may be selfish of me, but I know that if you leave, you'll never come back. I'll never discover my reason."

"Yeah, so you _do_ want to know my secret with spears." Anger pulsed through me. "Well, you know what, even if I'm going to my death or to my victory, I'll never tell you."

We lapsed into silence yet again, Cornelia mourning her "loss" and me hating her. Why had I even become her friend if this was all it was going to be? All she wanted was to be better than me, know everything I knew and much more. She was more skilled than me at the bow and arrow, at the knives, if she knew this final thing, she would be...invincible.

By the time the Reaping actually started, the rage between us had dwindled somewhat, leaving only a confused air. I would've appreciated any kind of talking from her, whether it be bad or good, but I knew she was still too despairing to say anything.

The District Two escort was tall and lean, looking like he'd been one of the actual soldiers from the rebellion. His eyes were the color of seashells, a pale creamy orange. Hair the color of desert sands, bleached blonde from the sun but in an uneven, choppy way. I wondered if he had any actual good advice to give me about the Games, especially the Cornucopia. Stick with the Careers, who might pose as a massive threat, or hunt alone?

The escort—who's name I could never remember—flashed a grin at the audience, declaring his speech of, "Hello, and welcome to the 36th Annual Hunger Games!" He gestured to the mayor and our eight victors. "Our kind mayor will speak what he needs to."

Our mayor did his boring speech about our victors, then limped back to his spot at the corner of the stage alongside the victors. Then, the escort began drawing names. I tensed up as he announced the girl tribute: "Madeline Scardovi!"

A girl with dark hair done in tons of ringlets all the way down to her waist stepped forward, eyes gleaming. Since she lived in a Career District, she was safe from actually being in the Games, knowing that there was always a volunteer. For a second I contemplated not volunteering, just to see the look on her scared face, but then I told myself I had worked this hard and I would never get another chance.

I took a deep breath and yelled, "I volunteer as tribute!"

The crowd burst out in cheers and claps as I presented myself volunteer. Madeline scampered back into the audience, looking very relieved to leave the stage, and I gazed after her coolly, pasting serious look on face so that the crowd would know I wasn't joking. Cheers of appreciation rose once more among Two.

Next, the escort sifted through the papers and chose a boy tribute. "John Mazurk."

A skinny boy of twelve ascended the stage, and then I heard—wait, what? Two people?—begin to say, "I volunteer as tribute!"

One of them finished first and dashed up to the stage, grinning smugly. My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. What exactly was happening?

* * *

 ** _Felix Saunders (D2 Male)_**

I grinned as I went to the stage. I was the boy tribute now, whether Ralph knew it or not. I had volunteered a millisecond before him, and nothing could change that.

The muscular eighteen-year-old snarled menacingly as he approached me, coming up the stage as well. Ugh. Would I have to fight him? He was my best friend, I wasn't really wanting to do something like that. But I had to prove myself. If I did, and on live television too, I would get high bids on my victory.

"Felix, what the _hell_ are you doing?" hissed Ralph, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. I couldn't help but notice that they looked like snake's eyes, green with anger, a vein pulsing in his forehead. His mouth was curving downward in pure hatred, betrayal written all over his face.

I sneered at him. "There's nothing you can do, so back off. I'm the volunteer now."

"You placed second! Not first. So get your jealous behind _out_ of my personal space." Ralph clenched his fists, his fighting blood starting up. I glared at him. So he did want a fight. Well, it was final then. I had tried to avoid a fight, and he had asked for it besides. _So sorry, best friend._

I lunged at him, shoving him away, and since I had gained the upper hand instantly, momentarily startling him, my confidence was running high. I paced a step back, letting him get to his feet, then went for him again. I twisted around as he aimed a punch, then wrestled him to the ground, taking his arm and pinning it down, trying to avoid his snapping teeth.

Ralph panted venomously, "I'm eighteen this year. You should know that. You just volunteered because you knew this was my last chance. _HOW DARE YOU_!" He flung me off and I landed on the ground, pain flaring in my head. I was dizzy for a moment, the world spinning around me, the floor at the top and the sky at the bottom..

Then, Ralph slammed a fist into my chest, probably breaking a rib or something, but at least it made me aware of reality again. I winced at the sickening pain but got to my feet slowly. Ralph let me rise, then, when I was barely on my toes, he took my arm and twisted it painfully.

"OWCH! Stop it, Ralph!" I cried, tugging my arm free. A red bruise was beginning to form over the skin, and with a sudden stream of anger, I summoned on the strength I had and knocked my best friend to the floor.

"You two," said Jeffery, the escort, feebly. "Please stop—"

He was cut off by a loud roar from Ralph, a monster's roar who had been defeated and cannot get up. Sweat was sticky on his face and blood seeped out of the broken skin of his cheek. Putting a hand to his cheek to try to stop the blood, he jerked to his feet.

"I WILL GET YOU!" And with that, I fell unconscious, from a punch to the head.

I woke up again in the Justice Building, a girl whom I recognized from the Academy, Persefone, standing over me. When she saw that I was coming back to reality, she got straight to business. "Okay," she said, as if reciting off a speech she had written in her head. "Ralph, you see, he knocked you unconscious. He was dragged away and the doctors went right to work on him. You know, bloody cheek and all." Then I realized her eyes were shining. "That was a bloody epic fight you put on back there. Nice job. Two'll be the center of attention for sure this year."

I groaned, sitting up in bed, and she pushed me back down. "Don't you dare get up," she said quickly. "Your head's still...um, bandaged..and all..."

"That was so embarrassing," I moaned, putting my head in my hands. "I got defeated by Ralph. Is he the volunteer now?"

"No, Jeffery managed to get proof that there's no such thing as _second volunteers_ ," Persefone replied pleasantly. "So you're still the volunteer. You better heal quickly though. It wouldn't be so great to go to the Games looking like this, wouldn't it?"

I grunted in response.

"You're eighteen, right?" Persefone stared down at me with hard eyes.

"Yeees..."

"That explains it. It _is_ your last year to volunteer. I guess I understand why you did that. But do you still think you can win with that bruise and all?" She pointed to my head.

"I can win," I said confidently, however drowsy my voice sounded.

Persefone stared at me for a moment longer before concluding, "You need some sleep. Your parents will come in here shortly." She walking out of the room, departing silently.

I was still mighty embarrassed about what had happened. Did they now think that I wasn't fit to be the volunteer? Did all their hopes lay with Persefone now, seeing as she was actually the rightful chosen one?

All those thoughts spun dizzily in my overworked head as I relapsed into sleep.

 **8/15/17**


	14. District 7 Reaping

**OMG! TYSM FOR 100 REVIEWS, LOVE YOU ALL!**

 _ **Spruce Ashmark (D7 Male)**_

A spruce was a type of tree, tall and stretching its arms to the sky, covered in thick green leaves that remained the same color all year. In the winter, it was coated with pale white snow; in the summer it cast a greenish-black shadow directly onto the ground. There were a lot of spruces in Seven, mainly because it was the lumber District and had an infinite amount of trees to cut down, but also because one of them was named that. Spruce Ashmark, named after a tree. Basically like a tree: he had its green-leafed protectiveness, plus its hard-working attitude during the winter.

Spruce Ashmark was me. Sixteen years old, tall and stalky, with ocean blue eyes(though I'd never seen the ocean before) and streaked golden-blond hair. I tried to protect my sister and my friends as best as I could, since my parents were dead and I was the only one who could. I often wished I were a better brother, somebody stronger and not so weak, and that was what I was determined not to be.

When my parents had died, my mother when she was giving birth to my sister and my father from a falling tree, we had been sent to live with our aunt Ellie and uncle Moss. Ellie was a pretty interesting person. I had often observed her in our first days, wondering why she tried to hide something, and what it was. I later found out that it was depression.

Moss was just your typical childless uncle. He always looked at me with this blue glow in his eyes, as if he thought I was the son he could never have. He was easygoing and ordinary, almost too ordinary, but let me go on with what I had to do, not having much of an authority over me.

My sister, her name was Sprig. She was almost four years old and really sweet and cute- about the only one besides my best friend that could make me laugh. She looked like me, the same deep blue eyes, golden-blonde hair, just without the brown streaks.

So yeah. That was basically my family, although really it began on the day before the Reaping, when I was talking with my sister before bed. She had never stayed up this late and there were dark circles beneath her eyes; I made sure to promise myself that I would get her to bed before ten.

"Spwuce, tell me that stowy about the Districts again!" Sprig begged, blue eyes shining with her childlike mirth. "Pleeeease?"

I nodded, halfway zoned out of the conversation. This happened to me frequently, just me thinking of other things and not paying attention to the actual world. The exhaustion had paid off on me today and I had gotten a bit irritated because of it. But with my sister, I could always afford the sparking gold happiness at the very pit of my stomach.

Summoning all my happiness to my voice, which was very little, to say the least, I said, "We'll begin with One. And remember, pay attention. There'll be questions at the end of each part."

Sprig nodded impatiently, propping her chin on her hands, looking up at me as I told the story through wide-eyed, fervent attention. "It all begins with the Capitol, of course. They organized the people into thirteen Districts and gave them things to do. Like?" I ended the part with a question, asking for her to continue with the answer.

Sprig gave a slight, "Hmm," which was both amusing and sigh-worthy at the same time. She was so young and understood so little of the world. I didn't expect her to hear the dark, moody opinions in my voice, beneath all the layers of fact.

"Luctuwry, masonwy..." She began naming the uses of all the Districts.

"Good," I said approvingly when she was done. Sprig had taken a special liking to the history of Panem, insisting that even though she was very young, she ought to know it. I wanted to tell it to her in a very opinionated way, where I would say the Hunger Games was terrible and the Capitol was wrong. Normally I had no time at all to make opinions about the Capitol, since my work time had increased, but my brooding personally began to grow over the years, finally coming to this. Me, now.

I talked on about District One, saying that they were the District who made luxury items for the Capitol, and Sprig's eyes sparkled with envy. She had always had a thing for jewelry, always demanding why she didn't have any herself. I had to explain to her that wasn't fortunate enough to be in a richer District. The only thing close to jewelry we had was a wooden ring carved from the bark of a spruce tree with a small piece of metal set in the middle.

Then I went on to Two, talking about how they housed Peacekeepers-in-training and produced weapons of all sorts. Sprig asked why they didn't just use those weapons to rebel, though she said it with a disbelieving air, and I replied, "They can't, they must be heavily guarded."

Next was Three. District Three made technology and that kind of thing, but Sprig was easily bored about the subject so I hurried on quickly.

We talked briefly about District Four's fishing, Sprig saying that she bet if she were in Four, she could catch as many fish as anyone. I patted her head affectionately, my heart warming for the instant at her childish humor.

There was not much to say about Five. None of us knew much about it, and they never included a lot in the history books so we lingered little on the subject.

Six was the same. I made a few remarks on transportation, but altogether, it wasn't that interesting and Sprig demanded I continue.

Then was Seven, our District, the District of lumber and the District I knew most about. There was a huge forest with tons and tons of trees, and out job was to just cut those trees down, every last one, and make them into useful lumber from the bark. It was a dangerous job that we were all born into, unless we were lucky and were part of a baker or sewer's family.

Afterward was Eight, similar to Five and Six and not capturing Sprig's interest too much. She got most of the questions wrong and earnestly said, "Spruce, it doesn't matter whether we lwearn about Weight, go on to Nine!"

I did as she asked, even though I knew she would show as little interest on Nine as of Eight. It was about grain, blah blah blah blah blah, grain, grain, and more grain.

Continuing along the line was Ten, the District of livestock. Sprig said fervently, "I would lwike to have my own hawse!" I smiled at her, a slight sparkle in my eye that only came from talking to my amazing little sister.

Next was Eleven, all about agriculture. Sprig showed as much interest on it as the rest of the middle Districts, so we hurried on quickly. Afterward was Twelve, which sent her into wide-eyed anticipation. She always listened during Twelve, for whatever reason I did not know.

"Twelve is the District of coal," I told her. "They sometimes have coal accidents with mining and all that, kind of like we do with trees. But I suppose every District has their dangers and downsides."

"Now thuhteen," Sprig said excitedly. This was what she paid the most attention to in the whole story.

"Thirteen." I took a deep breath in, let it out with a sigh. "The Capitol burned it down, all the way to the ground, and every known inhabitant was killed." A heavy feeling feel on my heart, a sudden gloominess coming over me. "It's terrible, I know."

"Oh." Sprig shared my sympathy in her wide blue eyes, eyebrows knitting together. Her soft voice barely stirred the air as she looked down at the ragged carpet, thinking for a moment. "Is that..is that bad of the Capitol?" She couldn't bear to think that the Capitol was actually so ruthless.

"Yes..yes it is, Sprig," I answered sympathetically, knowing she would take it hard. Sprig always had a certain faith in the Capitol, but every time District Thirteen's story came around, she was always stricken by the amount of cruelty in their ruler's actions.

Sprig said, "oh," again, this time much quieter and with a tone in her voice that suggested she wasn't the happy, careful child he knew. He had a feeling she was thinking, thinking about what he had just said and rolling the words over in her mind.

I got up and left her to sit alone on the carpet, pressing a kiss into her golden hair and silently treading to my room, the moodiness wearing me down.

* * *

 _ **Alea Bryce (D7 Female)**_

"Oh no, you don't," snarled the red-faced girl across from me. "You wanna fight?"

I sneered. "Bring it on."

This was how every other day was like in the Community Home, me picking fights with the weaker kids and winning. I knew, of course, that I shouldn't bother the older ones, who stayed at a respectful distance, but I was pretty sure I could beat Jessie, who looked like she'd never held an axe in her life.

"First," I said briskly, "pick your weapon."

Jessie pushed a lock of stringy brown hair behind her shoulder and gaped at me. "Weapon?"

"You know. Axe. Club. Arrows," I said coolly, knowing she would have none of those and I would be free to pin her down with my axe. I had learned how to use one when I was younger, when I had known I had had to survive. These people were generally clueless.

My grip tightened on the wooden handle of my axe, as she did on her hair. "What are we fighting over?" she hissed.

I nodded at her lunch and she again became red-faced. "You can't have my lunch!" she cried out defiantly.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked her. "Are you saying that you're too weak to defend it?" I scoffed. The older kids always got their lunch first, leaving the younger kids behind with nothing. I usually picked fights with them and won over some meals.

"No way!" Jessie growled, already eyeing my axe uneasily. "But I don't have a weapon..."

"You don't need one. You can use your bare hands," I said coldly.

"Fine. Bring it on." Jessie looked around for really anything to use as a weapon and came up with nothing. I smirked. She'd have to use her bare hands then.

I had her easily pinned down in a matter of seconds, as she tried to dodge. I went straight forward, causing everyone to move out of the way and cutting a path right to my opponent, lifting my axe threateningly to those who didn't.

Jessie was pretty soft, there was definitely no muscle beneath the skin, and her palms were soft and delicate, no calluses marking them just yet. Staring fiercely down at her angered face, I twisted my axe between my fingers lazily, a cruel gleam in my eye. Another one beat. She was older than me, she had had more time to train. She had just not used that time properly.

"Let...me...GO! You little baby! Don't think you're so much better just because you beat me. _I_ think you're disgusting." Jessie struggled beneath my firm grip, but couldn't managed to get out. I gazed coldly down at her. There was something about picking fights that was just stuck in my blood. However much I tried to resist my temper, it always flared.

"How so?" I asked coolly, my sharp green eyes narrowed, barely a sweat on my face.

"Look at yourself! For God's sake, you're using an _axe_. Nobody uses an axe for fun but you! I bet you cut off your hair with that axe of yours. Where'd you get it, huh? Your daddy. Oh, right, your daddy's left you." Jessie's lips curled back, and I stared with mute contempt at her long, tangled hair, always getting in the way, never cut because she couldn't afford to make a weapon like I had without getting her hands dirty. Soft, inexperienced Jessie, I thought mockingly.

"Oh, yeah? My daddy's left me?" I sneered down at her face, eyes flashing. "Well, look here. Who's got you pinned down? Who's won?" I smiled smugly. "Do you want me to break flesh? Cause I will if I have to."

For an instant, fear darted into Jessie's face. Then her eyes turned challenging and she demanded, "Go ahead."

"Gladly." I took the axe, and with a small movement, sliced into the skin of her bony arm. She bit her lip until it was white against a scream of pain, her eyes going wild and rolling, her arm shaking beneath my iron grip.

"Let me go!" she wailed again, her voice coming out as a gurgle, barely restraining pain. "Let me go!"

"Not until you admit that you were wrong," I snarled in her face.

"Fine!" Her eyes were wide now, the whites showing like miniature crescent moons. "Just-" She choked on her own desperate spit as she tried to get the words out before I dug the axe farther. "Just- let..." Her lower lip was white from biting it. "Let..me...go!"

Let me go. My victims' signature admittance of defeat. "Oh, I almost forgot," I added. "You also have to give me your lunch."

"But-" Her stomach growled as if she back up her resistance. She sent a darting glance to the lunch tray, packed with food. A look of bitter understanding came into her eyes, the knowledge that I had fought her because of the large quantity of food on her plate. She was probably making a note not to do this again.

"Fine." Those words made me let go of her. I picked up her tray with all its uneaten food and saw her look over regretfully at me. I shrugged, not caring, and began to pick out the best things to eat from there. There was a vine stocked with moldy grapes, throw that away. Then there was an okay-looking watermelon slice; I bit into it tentatively and discovered that it was slightly sweet. Good enough.

I finished up the watermelon and proceeded to look at my choices of meats. There was a small chunk of beef and a slice of pork. I wasn't too fond of either, but I chose beef, the dry meat looking at least better than the oily pork.

Digging my fork into the beef, I began cutting into the beef with my axe, ignoring the stares of other people. Sure, I had just used it to cut into somebody else's flesh, but hygiene wasn't too big on my list, so I passed with begging someone else for food.

I didn't eat the parts where the axe touched, so at least the stuff that went into my mouth was clean(ish). After I had picked my way through the beef, I chugged down a bottle of water, then threw the plate into the trash. I caught someone's eye, a scrawny blond boy, who was staring at my uneaten pork longingly, but nothing much went to my heart.

I gnawed on my lip, thinking what I should do. Should I go to the Reaping with everyone else at the Community Home, or should I go by myself? I decided the latter; it wasn't like I had any friends or anything to walk with, and exited the lunchroom into the cool, shady day.

Seven was more fortunate to have the shade of the trees. My shoes, patched but otherwise good, rustled the leaves around me, making that crunching sound I so used to love when I was little. Now I just found it annoying.

I began to see the Reaping, where it was a wide space and the sunlight filtered down in hot waves. This year it couldn't be _that_ different. Sure, I was sixteen and there was one more in the bowl. But I didn't take tesserae. That would make my social status go way down and there was no way I would ever put my head up again. I had survived all the other years. I could survive this one.

Right?

 **A/N: WRONGGGGG. Okay, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I was getting too bored with writing just the Reaping so I changed it up a bit.**

 **Now we are onto train rides! Hopefully updates will come faster, I think the longest you'll ever have to wait is like a week? Happened once or twice when I was too lazy to write, now my excuse is school. xD No, seriously. SCHOOL. P.S, I had to rewrite a part of this, and if it weren't for my awesome dad, then I would have lost even more. SO YAY.**

 **8/19/17**


	15. Train Rides (1-4)

**Long chappie for you guys here! Sorry for the lack of interesting stuff in the boys' POVs, I came up with the idea when I was writing Calamity. Sorry for the not-frequent updates! That's why this is long!**

 _ **Mark Seashire (D1 Male)**_

I was so ready for the Games by the time we were escorted to the train. It was a tall, metal-plated thing, slender in structure but giant in size. A plume of smoke curled around the top, coming out of a hole on the top.

I had found out quickly that my District partner was sentimental, not aggressive, and was probably only going into the Games to fulfill her curiosity from books or something. She stood to my right, staring in awe at the train, the glasses perched on her nose magnifying her eyes.

The mentors were complete idiots. They had picked one female and one male victor to train us- not like I needed it. I was already pretty sure I had obtained enough skills from the Academy, and besides, my trainer, Metallic, was _clueless_. I asked him if he knew how to use a spear and he answered, "By throwing it, of course." Seriously, it was not just throwing it!

We entered the train in single file. While Skyrah looked like she was about to fall asleep, I was filled with energy. I wanted to go into the Games right then and there, I was so sure I could win.

Metallic glanced at me tensely. "So, Mark, you look pretty excited for the Games."

I snorted. "Yeah, I'm excited. Why wouldn't I be?"

Metallic shut up, thankfully. I wilted with relief, not wanting to speak any longer to him because I felt it wasn't worth my time. Immediately I headed for the television, which was in a separate room. A really nice couch that was similar to the one in the Justice Building was tucked against the wall, while the TV sat across from it, looking like it was brand new. I glanced around for the remote, found it, and tested out a few buttons before realizing wryly that the big red button at the top was probably it.

When I clicked the button, the TV instantly turned on, unlike our slow TVs at home. The pictures were clear and distinguishable, brightly, realistically colored, and overall just better. In One, our TVs would make crackling sounds and the audio would go wrong halfway through the program, but now, the worry was nowhere near me.

I checked all the channels, though, of course, all of them were from the Capitol. One channel was a report on District Thirteen, the other LIVE from the upcoming Reapings. I chose it eagerly, wanting to see something about another District, and found that they were wrapping up Eight.

The girl was walking to the stage, her jaw clenched and an indignant, rebellious look on her face. I rolled my eyes. I'd seen enough of that in any District already.

She took the stage with a haughty air, almost impertinent. A smile was set deep into her mouth, a hard, vicious smile that seemed almost forced. Then there was the boy tribute, named Rowley or Ronald or something. He padded slowly to the stage, his eyes darting about. He looked to be around the same age as me, but his starved expression and scrawny, nothing-near-muscled body hinted at something close to desperation.

My eyebrows shot up as another boy suddenly volunteered, his voice loud and almost cracking. Was he volunteering for riches? I sneered at the TV. Well, if that was what he wanted, he wasn't going to get it. I was going to win and everyone knew it.

The boy's name was Rowan Loranger, and I paid close attention to him as he made his way to the stage. He was tall in height, calm exterior, dark-eyed and sable-haired like those tributes from the Seam in Twelve- which I had learned about from my very little education at the school; most of my time had been spent on training.

The girl, who's name I forgot, might pose a slight danger, I thought. I made note to go for her in the Bloodbath. The boy...well, I'd have to see. He just looked really serious, nothing else, but maybe there was something hidden underneath, something that I had yet to discover.

 _ **Felix Saunders (D2 Male)**_

I was feeling really dizzy as I stepped into the train, for some unknown reason, so, desperate to get to my room, I almost tripped over my District Partner, Persefone.

Great.

She was staring at me through beady, angered eyes, but didn't say anything, though there was a tenseness in the air around her. I carefully stayed out of her way after that, not wanting to get infected with her easily provoked attitude. However, later, I would discover that that was just her "serious stance".

Not now, though. Inching away slowly, I slipped into a side room. It looked to be a parlor of some sort, decorated with a red velvet couch. In front of that, expensive-looking china sat on a glass-topped table. I reached out my hand tentatively and brushed my fingers against the delicate china, caressing the pinkish roses. I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, replaced by the glory of teacups.

The glory of teacups. Was I going crazy? Sure, I had been diagnosed with epilepsy when I was twelve, but..no, I couldn't be really ill right now! I tried to take calming breaths, focusing on the world around me, the room still spinning dizzily, before I regained control. Good. It was just a brief, what was it called, a panic attack? Nothing associated with epilepsy.

Arm shaking slightly, I leaned against the back of the couch, closing my eyes and humming Jingle Bells. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The headache...would go away...eventually.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but after a while, the door swung open abruptly. My eyes snapped open and my relaxed body began tensing up. The headache came back again in a whirlwind, my forehead began to throb.

It was Persefone. She was staring at me through her usual burning eyes, not a hint of emotion recognizable through the armor. She walked over the threshold and lowered herself onto the side of the couch, all the while looking at me. Wait..was that a flicker of amusement? I wondered.

She sat there for a moment, still as a statue, then spoke up, her mouth barely moving as she did. "That was some interesting yoga practice you did there."

I grunted. "Thanks."

Her eyes flashed. "I didn't mean it as a compliment." She tilted her head. "What were you doing back there?"

"Nothing..," I lied. There was no way I was going to give away one of my weaknesses to a possible opponent. I couldn't trust her, even though she was a fellow Career and my conscience told me to spill so she wouldn't get suspicious.

Persefone's eyes narrowed slightly. "I know you're lying," she said briefly.

"I was," I returned flatly.

She recovered her brisk tone and said solemnly, "There's something about you...are you spiritual?" She smiled, showing all her teeth. "Are you praying to God, hoping he will help you win? Is that it?"

"Yes," I said feebly, fidgeting slightly and hoping she wouldn't see through my fib. To my relief, the tenseness melted from her muscles, the strange onto-something glint deepening into her regular cat-green.

"I'm pretty sure we're _all_ praying to God," she went on. She got to her feet, studied me for a second longer, then padded off. I sighed, burying my face into the couch. She had been so close to discovering..I had to be more careful next time.

 _ **Calamity Astrea (D3 Female)**_

 _Whoa._

Books. Tons and tons of books filled every shelf, a sheet of dust covering them and signifying their history. I reached forward and touched one, eyes round, wanting to grab all of them and start reading at once. So many stories! So many histories about the Games..about the Capitol...

Haydn chuckled softly. "You're a reader, aren't you?"

I nodded fervently, plucking a book from the shelf and plopping down on a chair. The book's title was: _History of District Thirteen_. Immediately I began flipping through pages, brightening at each one. Colorful illustrations lined every page, a small caption written underneath that said, _Thirteen was the District of nuclear weaponry and graphite mining._

I thumbed through the pages, my spirits rising at each one. Maybe being in the Games wasn't so bad, if I got to look at all of this! This was incredible, better than anything back at Three. I felt like it would all be worth it, after all. I felt like if I even breathed, I would wake up, back in the village.

"Well," Haydn said, tilting his head, "I'll leave you to it, then. Have fun." He left the library, but I barely realized it. I was too mystified by all the books.

"Thanks," I muttered under my breath. I sat up and collected a couple more books, then sat back down to read again. It was so interesting, escaping into these fascinating worlds, with only an imagination to guide me. I was quite the daydreamer, too, and all of these stories held a special meaning to me. The story about the Goat and the Apple- my grandma Sally had told me it right before she died of illness. The story called Mysteries and Legends- I had received a worn copy of the book for my eleventh birthday.

I had read much of these before but I viewed them through a different eye as I flipped through them now. Now, when I was at risk of dying in the Games, I clung to them with a desperation of childhood memories, a wanting to savor as many of them as I could before the time came.

 _Before the time comes..._ I thought, and my heart went cold. _What do I mean by that? Before..before I die? Before I win? I..I shall be changed no matter what. If I die, I will have done it with an experience. And if I win..._ I didn't dare hope, but my spirits soared every time I thought of the prospect. _If I win...I'll be changed by the death around me. I will have killed at least one person. I'll have seen bloodshed, and gore, and horrors, and I will be happier than ever before, never with an ungrateful thought in my head ever again._

I stopped reading right around lunchtime, heading out of the library to see if there was anything to eat. Would there be my own servant or something? Then I remembered from the stories, that there were prisoners called Avoxes who tended to the victors' every need.

I searched them out but didn't find any, so I just went to the kitchen and made myself a sandwich to eat. I was just sitting down with the sandwich when a small boy came into the room, white-blond hair matted to his head. His eyes were icy cold and his skin pale, pale white. Figuring he was the Avox, I gave a friendly, "Hullo, you're the..the Avox, aren't you?"

He shook his head stiffly, and that was when I could tell he was reeking of sweat. He must've ran from all the way across the train to get here, I observed.

"Then who are you?" I asked.

"Not...the...Avox...," he panted, his ice armor splintering.

I repeated my question to him and he did nothing but stare, eyebrows raised, his voice proving that he wasn't an Avox, but nothing else significant about him. Was he my mentor? I would know who the past victors were, we hadn't had many, after all, and he was not one of them. Both boys who had won were brown-haired and tan-skinned, twins who had won one the year after the other.

Suddenly the boy said, in a haunted voice, "I came from Four."

"Four?" I questioned, so startled my eyes shot up from my sandwich. My full attention was directed at him now, and he nodded breathlessly, hands beginning to shake.

"Azurine...and...Algar..."

"What about them?" I inquired. I didn't know who Azurine and Algar were whatsoever but I figured they were Four's tributes.

"Algar..he disappeared...We don't know where he is...I needed to get help...straightaway...," he said, breaking off into a volley of coughs. I jumped to my feet.

"He disappeared?"

"Yes...District...Four...tribute...he...left...can't...find...him..."

"So tell me who you are again?" I said, determined to get something out of him. Was he Algar's mentor? That was the only reasonable answer...

"I'm...his...mentor...," he wheezed.

"Jeez, you don't look well," I said obviously. "Why don't you, erm, sit down. Sorry, I'm not really a doctor...so if you die here...I'll make sure to get you a good tombstone, okay?"

"You are.. a rather interesting... character," he observed, finally regaining his breath back.

"I know," I said shortly. "But I don't care about that now. First, tell me why you're here and why somebody from Four is in Three's train." There were twelve trains for every District, private to only people associated with the tributes, not one train dropping off at every District, so...there must be a reason. And a good one, because usually Four acted too haughty to pay much mind to Three.

"I told you..already," he said impatiently. "Algar's...gone..."

"So am I supposed to help you find him?" I demanded, bristling at the very idea. "Look, Snowy, I'm not in the mood for looking for one of my opponents, especially if he's a Career and poses a really big threat to me. So now there's one Career down- more chance for me to win. I'm not going to help Four, especially when they're so _ugh_ to us."

"Forget that now," he said tiredly, then raised an eyebrow. "What was that about Snowy?"

I flushed a hot, indignant pink. "Never mind that! Just a nickname, anyway. It's not like you told me your name yet."

"Fine." He seemed to have his mind made up. "The name's Icicli. Ici-ca-li. You can call me Ice, though."

"Icicli?" I echoed. "That sounds like a rather odd name."

"Blame my parents, not me. Now, onto my situation. Algar's missing, and we need you to help find him."

" _Me_?" I said, surprised. "Surely not me. Why couldn't you go find some lovely, beautiful, sparkly District One girl?"

He scowled. "That's offending, you know."

"Ugh, whatever. Tell me what's going on," I snapped.

"Anyway, we need your help. You have to find Algar and bring him back. We can't show up at the Capitol like this! Think about it. They'll kill me."

"You know, I really don't care if they kill you or not," I stated, "but like I said, I'm not helping. I don't want to be involved with this stuff and District Four's male tribute missing does not concern me one bit. Rather, it's a good thing, because that means one enemy eliminated off my twenty-three-enemy-long list."

He fixed me with an intense blue gaze. "We're not asking much. And why we didn't choose any other District- you were the closest. Your train had barely left yet and we could track you down easily. So I'm asking your help. Please?"

My heart was blazing, _No! Don't help this stranger you barely know!_ but at the same time my conscience yelled, _What are you waiting for? This is the perfect opportunity to prove yourself! Or are you going to be a coward all your life?_

I stared down at my feet. "Will this take me out of the train?"

"Hopefully not." Icicli, or Ice, didn't look too hopeful. "All you'll have to do is search around, look out the windows, in the train. He shouldn't be far. Our train is close to yours and we'll both search. Or, at least, for this part of the journey. Eventually we'll separate, but for now, we're stuck with each other. Yay."

 _ **Azurine Bahari (D4 Female)**_

Ice darted a glance at me. "You're not thinking of doing it, are you?"

I gazed at him coolly. "Perhaps."

"Azurine, it's dangerous," he said quietly, looking down at his feet, a small amused smile flickering across his face.

"Oh, really! Since when did you start caring about my personal well-being?" I asked coldly. He shrugged, his pale face smooth and showing absolutely no emotion at all, and a hot flare of annoyance struck me for some reason, I didn't know why. Ice was just so infuriating sometimes, his not-knowing-anything shrug, that frosty shield in front of his emotions, the cold blue eyes which were always observing but never saying his true thoughts.

"Azurine, you are a tribute for the 36th Annual Hunger Games. Surely your well-being must be at the top of my list?" Icicli said matter-of-factly. "If you happened to get lost, then the Capitol would kill me."

I stared stonily at him, trying to gauge out some sort of feeling, but I couldn't. He wasn't transparent like all the rest of them, he was solid brick. Eyes narrowing, I responded icily, "Are you sure about that? Or are you just trying to help out the escort? Because I'm pretty sure the escort is in charge of us, not you."

"The escort? Have you already forgotten her name?" Ice raised an eyebrow, a pale look of despondency coming over his eyes. "Don't tell me you forgot her name! I'm pretty sure we inserted it into your head fairly well."

I glared at him silently, and he neither smiled nor frowned. "So you have forgotten," he finally put in, pale eyes slanting downwards in disapproval. I scoffed in my head. Let him disapprove. Let him sneer and do all the things he does beneath his mask. Then my strong need to prove myself kicked in and I started shaking with anger, first little tremors, then vicious rage.

"Well you know what, icicle-headed!" I hissed. "Think all you want. I'll show you in the Games- I'll show everyone that I'm not the incompetent loser you think I am."

Even as his mask shifted slightly, he maintained an unperturbed attitude. "Azurine, Azurine, what must I say to convince you that I am not an enemy?" His eyes glinted dangerously, and I suddenly found myself wondering how he had won his Games. Through intimidation? I snorted at the very idea.

"You can call me Zuri," I retorted stiffly. "Now may I _please_ leave?" A small flame of dismay shattered across his face and I smiled smugly. There was always a way to get back at old enemies, especially by using their own tactics.

"No," he rejected, "you may not."

I resulted to staring at him incredulously. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Then why did you ask for my telling?" he replied swiftly, shooting me the same wide-eyed look that I gave him.

Getting to my feet at once, I stormed out of the room, without even a backwards glance. That is..until Ice offered an..interesting proposition. As in, "Could you help me with something?"

I swiveled around, spitting, and that was when I caught him without his armor. His eyes conveyed so much emotion in them I staggered, and there was a desperate shine that I had never seen before. Heart beating rapidly, I growled, "What?"

"Go to District Six. Find the tributes. And get their help." The way his naked eyes flared, the way his shoulders slumped, pride gone from his being, a surge of determination made me turn back around. _I will prove myself by helping find Algar. If I do, I'll throw this back at their faces. Then I'll laugh. I'll laugh a great deal when they appear shocked that I found an ally...and won the Games._

I was out the door before you could let a needle drop to the ground.

 **8/22/17**


	16. Train Rides (5-8)

A reply to Kealimepie: No no no no no! Sorry if I meant it like that, I just wanted to let you know. :) Also, I know _nothing_ about the app, so...sorry, but I don't know. :( I've only ever used it once and it was for forums.

* * *

 _ **Twyla Zahavyin (D5 Female)**_

I was so dazed by the Reapings, it seemed like a lifetime had gone by when I walked onto the train. It was magnificently built, imposing in all ways, but somehow, I just didn't have any interest in it. I had something more important to do.

Leaving the rest of them, I searched out my room and flopped down on the bed with a sigh. The stars would be amazing tonight, I thought. Stargazing was one of the things that kept me from snapping at my stupid stepmom. They just had a kind of peace to them, a wisdom that told me not to let my temper lead me. Sometimes there were no stars, which I frantically thought, _I must've done something wrong,_ and hurried to fix whatever problem I identified.

I couldn't care less about my District partner. He was just another opponent in the Games, one more person on my list of suspects, a possible ally, but I couldn't get my hopes up. He didn't exactly seem the type to be in the Games- so far all I had gotten from his aura was another happy, cheerful, carefree tribute.

My suspicions ran high with him. He might be hiding something, maybe one of his strengths, so that I would underestimate him, and then he would turn on me. I couldn't let myself believe he was completely innocent- I had learned much about that subject from Gisele.

Twice someone knocked at the door, but I just ignored them and kept staring at the ceiling, encased by my thoughts. The stars would be a welcome sight tonight. They would make me feel peaceful and give me hope, that perhaps I could win the Games. I glanced to the sole window in my enormous room, its frame a pale salmon color, the sky showing mid-afternoon. A few hours more and that sky would turn black, the stars (if there were any visible) would come out and I could make my prayers then, slow down my frantically beating heart.

Laying there on my bed, just looking at the ceiling, made me feel suddenly drowsy, even though I wasn't tired. I was dazed, sure, but not _tired_. My energy levels were always high and I couldn't recall a time when I had ever been reduced of it. I got my sleep when I needed it, even if it meant locking the door.

My thoughts then drifted to my mentor, the vicious woman who always had an intimidating look on her face and her eyes glowing with something close to thirst. I wasn't too sure I could handle somebody who looked so eerily close to my imaginative images of Gisele. My fingers balled up into a fist and I poured all my strength into my hand, shutting my eyes tightly. She was no problem, compared to the weight of the Games.

With that in mind, I slowly let my eyes fall open again...and was shocked that it was already dark. Had time really passed that fast? Was I dreaming? I pinched myself but all that happened was a slice of irritating pain going through my arm.

I slipped off my bed and paced over to the window, my arms settling comfortably on the sill. I gazed out intently out the clear glass, seeing stars...a blazing coal-colored darkness...I opened the window and inhaled the refreshing cool air, carrying a slight breeze to send goosebumps all over my arms.

Then I saw a head.

My first instinct was to scream, to scream my eyes off until I could see the head no longer. Then I realized that the head was attached to a body, only the grass went all the way up to the shoulders and only a face showed through.

I stared at the girl, feeling like this was what I would imagine a Career to be like. She was small, but athletic, pale eyes trained on me with a sort of fiery indignation.

"Shh," she whispered, putting a finger to her lips urgently. I stared at her, jaw dropped, wondering what on earth she might be doing here in the middle of the night. As far as I could tell, we were not close to any District. So was she sneaking away? Thrilled by the idea, I observed her with high interest.

She watched me, her eyes calculating.

I continued watching her.

We kept on staring at each other until I felt that we were either trying to sear the other's eyeballs out or trying to win at a staring contest. I had a feeling it was neither. Well, I had my reasons for staring at her- but it wasn't like she had excuses for staring at _me_.

So I just piped up in a high-pitched voice from the past few hours of disuse, "What are you doing here?"

She frowned. "Stop staring at me."

"You stop staring at me," I retorted.

She crawled through the grasses toward me, keeping her head low. "Are you a tribute, by chance? The female tribute of District Six, perhaps?"

"No. Also, you can stop staring at me now," I added sarcastically, trying not to show my fright and utter bewilderment.

"I thought you were the one who started staring," she hissed. We went back and forth for a while like this, until she finally tired and growled, "Shut up, you mewling kitten."

My nostrils flared. "Mewling kitten! Don't even! And as I said, I am not from District Six! I'm from Five! Does it even matter to you?!"

"Yes," she retorted, "it matters very, _very_ much."

"Why?" I prodded, and she gave me a suspicious look, as if not trusting me with the answer.

Finally she sighed and said in a toneless voice, "Algar is missing. Now shut up."

Not shutting up, I asked her, "Who's Algar?"

"He's the District Four boy tribute." She paused for a moment, contemplating. " _Now_ shut up." She turned away stiffly.

"Don't you want me to help?" I said, so sure she would've asked already. Or did she just not want help from a District Five, non-Career girl? I thought bitterly.

She looked at me darkly, as if imagining seven ways how I could die. "No." With that, she began slipping away again, I was definitely not going to dash out of the train after her. But I had another plan in mind. If I found Six for her- no, she was looking in Six. If I found Seven for her, or even Algar himself, maybe she would respect me then. Maybe I could gain a dangerous, trained Career for an ally. It was hard imagining, and sure, we would have to split up in the end, but if it was possible...I was willing to risk the chances.

I jumped out of the window.

 ** _Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)_**

I kept thinking about Caitlyn on the way there, half muddled by sadness and half feeling an odd kind of exhilaration. I had to win for her, I thought thickly. I had to win, I had to fight, even if my happy-go-easy personality went against all of it.

Why had I volunteered? I wondered sometimes, drawing my fingers across my face. Why, oh why, had I even considered the possibilities of me winning? Of course I wouldn't win. There was no way. I was from District Six, a District who had few victors compared to the Careers.

I kept reaching up to touch the C of my token, my mind dashing into memories of the two of us, our friendship, all the laughter and jokes we had exchanged. We had been through so much together, back at home, and now I was finally going into something by myself. _She's with me in spirit,_ I thought. _Through the C. The C stands for Caitlyn. Not me. Caitlyn. Kaitlyn_

I felt a heavy feeling in my throat, the kind one feels as a warning that they are going to cry. I put my hands over my face and refused to let this happen. I would not cry, crying was for babies, not somebody who was almost a teenager.

I sat there alone until, oddly, the door cracked open. A girl burst through, not Harriet, my District partner, but a different one. Her hair was dark and thick, eyes pale smoky blue. There were dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes from a lack of sleep, yet fire still burned within them. She was shorter than average and a harsh glare seethed on her face. I couldn't imagine her genuinely smiling.

"Um..hello," I said cautiously, trying to force a smile even though I was trembling on the inside. Struggling to stay optimistic, I clenched my jaw hard, biting down on an onslaught of questions.

"Hello," she said swiftly. "Have you seen anyone called Algar?"

"Of course not," I answered just as briskly. My response earned a violent hit of the nearest salt container, which crashed onto the ground, spilling white flecks.

"Are you sure?" she growled roughly, eyebrows slanting together with rage, pupils dilated, a robin's-egg-blue gaze suddenly turning stormy-shaded.

"Positive," I said, quailing away from her. I didn't want to get in the way of her hot temper, I thought reasonably, and she would be a formidable enemy even without...

A growl rumbling in her throat, she spit out, "Well, I'm going to keep searching, if you don't mind. I don't have time for unobservant tributes." She stomped out of the room. I hadn't even caught her name, I regretted. She seemed just like one of those bullies who sneered at me for being a "ladies man". It didn't look like I was even going to get close to the girl's heart, however.

Harriet came in a short while later, her long black hair tied into a securing braid. She was staring wide-eyed at me, asking bluntly, "What happened?"

"Well, this girl came in and raged because she wanted to know about some person named Algar," I explained, giving her a reassuring smile. She was like a little sister, even though she was older than me, and I had to make sure she was okay. The strong protective feeling surged over me and I vowed that I would help her in the arena.

She brightened, flashing sharp white teeth. "I can help! What do you need me to do?"

I thought for a moment. "Maybe you could get her out of the train. She poses a sort of- er- threat to us."

Harriet's mouth shaped into an _O_ of incredulity, before she nodded and raced out. I leaned back against the chair, thoughts running again back to Caitlyn. What was she doing right now? Would she be all right without me?

Then determination flashed in my mind and I told myself I would be okay, that if I had volunteered, I must've been at least holding some potential to win. I was practical, I told myself. I knew what I was doing.

 _Caitlyn..._ I thought, my brows now knitted together hopefully. _If you're listening...I want you to know that I will win. I will win for all of us._

 _ **Alea Bryce (D7 Female)**_

I couldn't believe I had been reaped. Me, Alea Bryce, the girl who had had countless victims surrender to her axe, in the 36th Hunger Games? It was impossible. It was surreal. It was...it was reality. I had to admit just that. But my tough spirit couldn't let me see any more- or else I would likely kill my own District partner.

Spruce was okay. I mean, he was serious, hard-working, and, best of all, knew what hardship was like. It was only his moody attitude that irritated me, but I supposed I could handle it. Moody District partners...that was nothing compared to the Games itself.

Speaking of which, Spruce was recounting this moment about some girl who had showed up and apparently had naturally red and black hair(come on, that was impossible, he had to have had a hallucination).

Then I drew up sharply when he mentioned an actual name. I hadn't really been listening to him the whole time because he was getting on my nerves but a name- could that be part of a hallucination? How could you imagine up a name? And it was realistic, too: "Twyla Zahavyin."

"Twyla," I mused to myself. "Typical District Five girl tribute name." Seriously. There had to have been like four Twylas before this.

"Hm?" He turned his dark serious eyes upon me and I shot him a green-fire glare back.

"I _said_ , Twyla is a typical District Five girl tribute name," I repeated, rolling my eyes at him. He scowled back. This was the only downside- we were both tough, we were both serious, and we both couldn't bear to reveal weaknesses to each other. In other words, our relationship was quite bumpy.

"Does it matter? I told you, there's a random girl out there and who knows where she could've came from," he looked at me intently. "So, you know, _go find her_?"

Pushing past him, I swung open the door and flung it back behind me. I had to see for myself if this Twyla cliche-named girl was real. Then...oh, no, it couldn't be possible... Sure enough, there was a girl, as Spruce had described, with red-and-black hair. She looked at me through eyes that only saw beyond, as if there was some kind of made-up fantasy thing behind me.

"You're Twyla, right?" I asked sharply, my tone giving no mercy to ignorance.

"Yes," she returned, her gaze flashing back to me quickly, almost with guilt, but she didn't dare show it. Her eyebrows were arched up with surprise, mouth set in a thin line.

"Why in the blazes are you here?" I grunted immediately, once I knew she was who Spruce had described. This Twyla-girl was not supposed to be on this train. Oh- what if she was a murderer? Lists upon lists of possibilities ran through my head.

"I..." She took a deep breath out. "Look, it's hard to explain. This guy named Algar- no questions please- got kidnapped or something and we're trying to get him back before we reach the Capitol. We can't let them know about this or...or..." She searched my eyes rapidly. "Or...or..we might be killed!"

"Well, you won't find him here," I said bluntly. "The only people on this train are me, you, Spruce, Avoxes, our mentors, and our escort."

"So...not Algar," she concluded, limp with disappointment.

"No Algar," I confirmed. My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who is this Algar you're looking for anyway?"

"I said no questions," she began stubbornly then, seeing my flaming glare, hurried on quickly. "He's the District Four boy tribute and he's gone missing, as I said. He's a vital part of the Games- why, he's a Career, for heaven's sake! So this will affect the Capitol badly and everyone will whisper about how, with all their riches, they couldn't take care of one simple teenage boy."

I hissed bitterly. "So we're helping them to save _their_ reputation?"

"And our lives," she added helpfully.

"I do care very much about my life, but.." I paused in mid-sentence. I really didn't want to get tangled up with this. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I want you to help me find Algar," she replied easily.

"Ugh, I don't want to leave here," I growled. "There is no way-"

"Then keep a watch here. On the train," she retorted. "Report of anything unusual and watch all the Capitol shows and-"

"Do you think I'll watch their stupid gossip channels?" I cut in. "There is no way you're going to make me do that. I do not care whatsoever about models posing on stages and being showered with flowers. I also don't care about celebrity marriages, or divorces, or all their dumb life stuff."

She sighed. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant, keep a watch on all the things about the Games, or stuff that's interesting. If the title seems anything close to Algar, click on it."

"Fine. As long as I don't leave here and get myself into a mess of trouble, like you," I said pointedly, "I'm happy."

She nodded, a dark light coming over her eyes. "Fine. Tell your District partner about this too. I'm leaving."

I asked her last, "Where are you going?"

And she said fiercely, "To Ten."

 ** _Lace Riverworth (D8 Female)_**

I leaned back against the couch, watching the Reaping replays. I was having thoughts about all of them, mostly unpleasant because, after all, they were against me in this, but some I praised for their spirit. I wasn't so sure I wanted allies yet, but I would have to see.

For District One, I almost spit on the velvet couch because of the utterly ridiculous way the District One male held himself, proud, arrogant, bursting with confidence. I wanted to smash him in half like a walnut. His name was Mark Seashire and, strangely, he had been reaped. He had probably been the "chosen one" also. Or maybe...or maybe no one had dared challenge him? I thought with slight amusement.

The female captured my interest but only for a little while. First of all, I noted that she didn't have blonde hair, or sparkling blue eyes, or that awesome, shining skin. She had glasses, which was so different it made me want to laugh, and dark hair. Sure, her dress was showy, but I had a feeling she had had no part in selecting it.

The District Two girl was normal, muscular all the way with a fierce look in her eyes that I would have to beware of. I scoffed at the boys fighting over the position of volunteer- only a complete crazed person would do such a thing.

The District Three boy and girl were both what I expected them to be, defiant, yet looking weak on the inside.

District Four had two volunteers, a girl named Azurine who was short but contained half as much fire as her District partner, and Algar, who kept his cool.

District Five...meh. The girl had a strange hair coloring, almost as if she had dyed it, but the boy was just another random guy in the universe. I forgot about him instantly.

District Six was known to have morphlings but both tributes looked anything but that. The girl looked soft and kind, her face the perfect picture of a typical tribute's, and the boy had volunteered plus, amazingly enough, he was twelve. _Twelve_. Jeez, he needed help badly.

Seven was composed of a girl, Alea, who wore a tough, determined look, and a boy who mirrored her expression and was called Spruce.

I watched myself impatiently, seeing the cameras zoom in on me as I walked to the stage, a careless look on my face, one that barely held back cursing at the Capitol. I grinned now. I had done well with that.

My District partner, Rowan, was just another one of those boys who had volunteered because he hoped to win and inwardly I possessed faint spite for him.

District Nine was just another round of perky girl and expressionless boy, though I thought he had held back some kind of relief. For his friends, maybe?

District Ten, Murray and Dahlia, sent me into a bunch of yawning. Typical tributes...

Finally the camera went to Eleven, to a girl who had volunteered for someone who looked like her sister and a boy who had walked up from being surrounded by girls. I scoffed.

By Twelve, I was ready to fall asleep. The girl was soft, delicate-looking and seeming easy to pick off. Maybe she would be one of my targets. The boy volunteered for another boy who was probably his friend or something. What was it with volunteers? I thought. Did these people really possess so much love that they were willing to throw themselves onto their deathbeds?

Then my thoughts flitted back to the Capitol. Oh, yes, I would show them up. I would show the world what they were really like- inside and out. The thought sparked an enraged rebellion inside me and I promised myself that I would show them up with as much drama as I could muster.

 _Capitol, you better watch your backs. Because the Districts are you going to run you down._

 **We had no school today so I was able to finish this chapter! I was really behind xD. Like, I was only finished up with Twyla by the end of yesterday and there was no way I could get this all done with school. This is like a miracle.**

 **8/25/17**


	17. Train Rides (9-12)

**NOTE- Read the first chapter again guys! Added something there. :) Plus, Muddyboots, sorry if I went OOC with Spruce! I'll edit it later. Tell me if I'm still being OOC, I want to make sure I have it down for another time!**

 ** _Cornell Wheaton (D9 Male)_**

The whole way there, the only thing I could think of were my siblings, back at home, safe in Nine, not in the risk of possible death. Prairie, Barley, Mother, sick Father, even Grayn seemed more fortunate than me... At least he had died a slow death, and by fire. I couldn't bear the thought that I might be..murdered.

 _Prairie, Barley, you must be alright_ , I thought sadly, feeling this heavy weight on my shoulders that had never been there before. They had to pull through this if I were to die, they couldn't just sit there and mourn, or else everything we kept up..the taxes...everything would be lost.

And I couldn't imagine Father lying in bed, coughing, with the knowledge that each breath might be his last. Claws clutched at my heart and I pulled my attention back to reality, away from home. I didn't need to think about Nine, I needed to think about what I would do in the Games- and how to win.

 _I'm doing this for Father_ , I thought. _If I win...we'll be able to pay for his treatment. Then surely it'll all be worth it._

Encouraged by this one thought, I stared back out the window, at the rolling hills and grasses rippling with the breeze. The sun was beginning to go back down, intense orange heat flaring nonetheless, and I figured it must be about five o'clock.

"Cornellllllll," a voice chirped. "Wherever you arrreeeeee." That was Zahava, my somewhat helpful optimist-of-a-friend. She was nice to talk to- I could quit thinking about my family for long periods of time when she was around.

"I've over here," I said, waving my hand. She brightened and skipped into the room.

"Do a magic trick!" she demanded.

"Okay," I replied, hoping she didn't know what I was thinking about because she would never understand. Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed out my deck of cards, which I had used just this morning. I shuffled through it, found the ones I needed, and put them face-down on the table(four queens and four random cards). I then showed her the cards, being sure to put the random cards behind the queens so she wouldn't see them.

"I have four cards, see?" I captioned.

She nodded fervently, eyes alight with interest.

"Now," I said as I placed the cards on top of the deck, the four random on top, "I'm going to put the four random into the deck." With a bunch of magnificent gestures, I put them all in random places within the stack.

"I'm going to make the queens go back to the top," I told her confidently.

She stared at me. "No way! You have four extra queens!"

I shook my head, smiling the whole time. "No, I don't." I revealed the four queens on the top.

"Then you have to have proof for those cards inside the deck," she said. "Show me it so I can be sure there's no extra queens." I displayed the cards to her and she, astonished, just gazed at them.

"No extra queens," I smiled.

"What!" She plucked at the cards, as if she wanted to make a queen appear.

I stacked all the cards back into one pile and said, shrugging, "That's the trick." _Smart,_ my mind mused. _Smart._

 ** _Murray Keyes (D10 Male)_**

Weird when a random girl just happened to come in and growl harshly, "Where is he?"

I happened to be having idle chat with my mentor, who looked to be a pretty nice guy. I wanted to get to know him more, then work my way to asking him what the best strategy he thought was, so that I could set my plan into motion.

"Where is who?" he asked innocently, a small smile curving across his mouth.

She shook with anger. "You know who I'm talking about! Where is he?" Jeez, had she gone crazy or something? How would we know who she was talking about?

Annoyance darted across her face. " _Tell me where he is_!"

"No, seriously, we don't know where 'he' is," snapped my mentor back. I still hadn't gotten his name yet so for now he was just known as 'my mentor'. He would always duck away from the topic when I tried to bring it up. Was he illegal? I wondered curiously. Finding out his name was my newest goal.

"You know," she hissed softly, her whole body tensing up. "You know who I'm talking about. Algar." She said the name in a quick and snappy tone, eyes glaring, as if she didn't even want to find this "Algar". Hmm... I wondered who she was. Maybe I could focus on that for now and _then_ make finding out my mentor's name my goal once I'd finished. It wasn't like I had anything else to do, other than wait, wait, wait, prepare, prepare, prepare.

"Who's Algar?" asked my mentor, taking charge of the conversation.

"Algar? Why, he's the District Four male tribute." For the first time she spoke with a surprise, as if she genuinely did not know that we had been clueless as to what she was talking about. _She must be crazy,_ I thought. _Probably from all the journeying outside. Must've taken her a long time._

"Mmm, okay," he nodded slowly, eyes becoming slits as if he didn't trust this girl. I couldn't say I blamed him.

"So do you know where he is?" she snarled, her voice becoming a whiplash once more, concealing the intrigued surprise earlier. I couldn't believe this was the same person, but if I had to sum it all up, it would definitely include _cold and snappy._

"Of course not, why would I?" my mentor asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling to a faint honest smile

"Oh, really? We've searched almost all the Districts- it has to be this one," she insisted.

"Which ones have you searched?"

"Districts Four, Five, Six, Seven, and now Ten," she ticked off on her fingers, still keeping her glare on us. When she turned, I saw that her hair was not completely black as I had thought; it actually faded into an unnatural red at the bottom. _Strange_ , I thought. _Does she dye her hair? No way. There's no such thing as hair stylists around here when everyone's trying to keep their stomachs full._

"Why did you skip Eight and Nine?" he asked softly.

She hesitated, a crack coming into her stiff features. "She..she went to Eight I'm pretty sure," she said carefully.

"What about Nine?" he prompted.

She became fiery once more. "Stop getting into my business and answer me!"

"I have already answered you," he murmured. "He's not here."

This seemed to enrage her further. "You have him! I know it!" she shouted coldly.

"Oh, little girl, don't throw a fit. I'm sure we can work this out," he said sympathetically, his voice honeyed and sweet. I didn't believe he actually felt that way- he was probably just putting on an act for her to trust him. But she did the complete opposite, staring at him with hard suspicion in her eyes.

"Don't call me a little girl," she hissed quietly, fingers curling into fists ready to strike. "If you say that one more time—"

"Okay, okay." He waved his hands. "No need to threaten us perfectly innocent souls. We don't have Algar or whatever his name is, have never seen him. Heck, I don't even know what he looks like. So you can go ahead and step out of the train now, have a great day." I almost admired his coolness, but it would be tough to have to put up with him, especially if you were on his bad side as she was now.

"Fine," she growled. "You know, I'm quitting. This has exhausted me too much and I won't even be ready for the Games. I'm going to find my way back to my train- how much time have we got left?"

My mentor glanced at his watch. "It's 1:17 now..so we'll have about, eh, until three or four in the morning?"

She rubbed at her eyes furiously as if she just now realized how late it was and cursed. "I've only got three hours at the most," she mumbled to herself. "Perfect." Slipping away, she headed on out- and we never saw a trace of her again for the whole ride.

 ** _Elizabeth Bronzebrook (D11 Female)_**

 _Rosie. Rosie._ Rosie. Her name ran through my head until I felt like I would go crazy. I couldn't believe I loved her that much. I loved her so much that I had volunteered for her. I had put my life in front of hers, as a defensive shield. Whether that shield splintered was entirely up to me, up to my choices on what I would do in the Games.

Maximus had wanted to discuss "strategy" with me and I had reluctantly agreed, needing every help I could get to win. Now I was stationed across a table from him, listening to his boring voice go over what he called "strategy", though I doubted anybody from the Capitol, even the escort, could help me. They were all a bunch of soft-minded zombies under the Capitol, right?

I didn't exactly talk to much to strangers- you could even call be shy. But I had to speak up and ask questions, however much it made be feel self-conscious. He was droning on about some Bloodbath plan, called the "Fight From Your Pedestal" strategy. It was about how you could throw something at them and explode them to bits. But what was there to throw? There was no way I was going to limping along with one shoe, even if it got rid of my enemies...

"So, Maximus," I began, not knowing really what to say. _Ugh! What do you say to someone who's all fancy and stuff? I don't even talk to normal people, let alone rich ones!_ "Which one...which strategy would you say is the best?"

His brow wrinkled as he thought for a moment. "Oh, well, it would probably have to be the 'Run Away' one. I personally think it's safest and more tributes have survived that way." He paused for effect. "But, of course, if you want to be dramatic and go kill a bunch of people...go ahead. But I would let the Careers do that."

"So you're saying that I have to run away...Basically?" I stared him in the face. I thought he'd have something better than just running away.

"Yes," he said firmly. "That is, if you want to live. If you want to die...that's a different story."

"Well, I don't want to die...," I put in, my voice trailing off as he began to explain all the awesomeness of running away. His yellow hair was beginning to gross me out. It looked like...well, barf?

"Sure you don't want to die, honey, so that's what I was saying, you should try the 'Run Away' strategy. It suits your personality, you know. Or...you could do something related to your District. That way nobody else will know how to do it because it's a special Eleven thing."

I decided not to growl at him for implying that I was a coward and instead said politely, "Like what?"

Maximus propped his chin on one hand, yawning slightly. "Oh, I don't know, maybe taking some dirt from the ground and throwing it at your opponent's faces? Then, when they're distracted, pick up a weapon and shoot them."

I looked down at my hands. "That sounds...great."

He seemed not to notice my hesitation and chattered on, but I was too weary to listen. A while later, my District partner, Amil, strode in, a charmingly smug smile plastered on his face. He grinned at me and said, "Hello, pretty."

I had never really been much of a flirt, and I always got extremely awkward whenever it happened. Being with my family felt a whole lot safer than speaking out with others, that was all. The only time I really talked and expressed my opinions was with them. And that was only part of my opinions, not all.

"Um.." Oh, God, was I blushing? Did he think I seriously liked him? I studied him closely but I couldn't tell beyond the thick mask of smiles. I decided to just say, "...thanks?"

He laughed, slapping the table as he did so in a very outgoing way and settling into a chair between Maximus and I. His excellent talent with dialogue leading him, he said, "So, whatcha talking about?"

"Bloodbath plans," I informed him.

He winked at me as if he could tell I was bored and said pleasantly, "Sounds interesting."

"It is!" Maximus piped up, putting a hand through his black-dyed-yellow hair. Ew. Disgusting. It looked like...like mustard. Yuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkk.

"Let me tell you all about it," Maximus continued smoothly. "Judging by _your_ personality, I would say you could go ahead and try to charm a few girls, have them fall for you and then maybe kill them?" He shot Amil an understanding smile. "You would be great at it." See what I meant when I said Maximus was completely clueless? Well, here was solid proof.

"Why, thank you," Amil smiled back, though it was less shiny and more guarded. "I will be sure to try it in the Bloodbath." Jeez, he wasn't actually going to try it, was he? Obviously not. From the way his odd smile shone, it looked as if he would rather go on a killing spree in the Bloodbath than try Maximus's advice.

Maximus beamed widely, his cheeks full of radiant color, so different from his usual pale complexion. And I'd thought he was cold and unlikable...of course, not that he was likable in any way.

Escort and tribute went back and forth like this for a while, each of them tossing each other calm compliments, Amil looking more and more fake by the second and Maximus more and more proud, as if thinking his ideas were life-savers.

Finally Amil left, saying that he was going to get some coffee, and I was left alone with Maximus, who was still sparkly-eyed. "Amil will be a wonderful tribute this year," he said proudly. "I bet you he might even win- or at least get into the final three. He has a way with girls, you know?"

"I can imagine," I said, trying to veil my dislike. I _really_ didn't like Maximus now, because he was easily messed with and clueless. But patiently I listened through his rambling. It would have to help me somehow.

 ** _Jackson Winters (D12 Male)_**

She was so small and tiny and helpless and young that I instantly felt a twinge of pity for her. Surely she would die in the Bloodbath...she looked like just the sort to. Her features, all in one face, were that of an angel's, sweetly beautiful. Her hair was the color of ashen blonde, her eyes round, large, and chocolate brown. I'd never had chocolate before, but I'd heard my parents talking about it...

I kept these feelings to myself, of course, those twinges of pity, the knowledge that she would likely die. I wasn't close enough to her to trust her, so I couldn't just blurt all of that out.

I wanted her as an ally just so I could help her, because it would be absolutely terrible if somebody so young as her had to die, but I wasn't so sure I could arrange that without having to tell her why. Maybe I could make something up..?

No, it was better to just stick with myself and stay quiet, mysterious, never interacting with anyone but friends, because she was one of those people who had ignored me the day I needed help.

Alice Kimminger, that was her name. Alice was a name to be expected, since it sounded angelic just by itself. Kimminger...I wasn't too sure about that. Kind of just a normal last name, not really saying anything or revealing any secrets.

She was speaking quietly with the escort right now, Vera Plosorm, who was chattering on about herself and batting her lashes. "Oh, you know," she said happily, "my makeup _is_ gorgeous!"

"It is," Alice agreed politely, beaming at Vera.

"Oh, darling, you would look absolutely _beautiful_ once the Capitol has you all fixed up!" she gushed generously.

Turning back around, I focused my attention on the large TV, where something about the Capitol was on. Caesar Flickerman shouted, "Welcome, all, to our most recent news broadcast!" A scream of cheers rattled out among the decorated, sparkling people in the audience.

"Today," he said, voice lowering abruptly so that everyone had to lean in to hear, "we will be seeing something _extra_ interesting. Let's give it up for _Algar_!"

Who was Algar? I wondered. It sounded like a District name, not that of a Capitol's... Intrigued, I watched the television through blazing eyes.

Then I saw a boy being led onstage, eyes flaring with hatred, teeth snapping wildly. A metal choker-like band wound around his neck; to the Capitol, it looked like a fashion peace, but I knew better.

"Let me go," he demanded venomously, and the audience screeched with laughter at his ragged hair, his sunken cheeks. He had definitely not been fed well recently, probably even kept as a prisoner to ridicule.

"Oh, but we're having too much fun!" Caesar grinned at him and patted the seat next to him. Stiffly, Algar sat down, a growl in his throat, but nobody seemed to have noticed- or if they did, they didn't care.

"So, Algar, how exactly did you turn up on our doorstep?" Caesar swept his gaze across the stage eagerly. "For those who didn't know, Algar is this year's male tribute- from District Four! Interesting, isn't it?"

The Capitol yelled out as one.

"Algar?" prodded Caesar, turning his wide smile upon the boy.

"I..was...exploring," wheezed Algar, "and..I..pushed a random..button..to activate...something. It..brought...me...here."

"Oh, yes, our newest invention," said Caesar easily. "We had it stocked in every train and you were unfortunate enough to find it. Well, now that you're here, can you tell us a little bit more about yourself?"

Algar looked like there was an endless torment in his eyes, and he couldn't stop it from showing. Was it some other drug they were using that was making him confess? I thought.

"Y-yes," sputtered Algar. "But..let..me GO FIRST!" All the strength ran out of his body and he sat there limply, eyes rolling from the effort.

"Now, now, Algar," Caesar said smoothly, "no need to make a fuss. Don't worry, we'll take care of you just fine after you answer these questions." He looked at the crowd again. "Now, Algar, how old are you?"

"N-no...I..."

I switched off the TV, not wanting to see any more of this frightening display. They were making him say all of that, forcing him to sputter out the truth, and he was trying to fight it as hard as he could. I couldn't keep watching the horrific sight.

 _I won't tell Alice,_ I thought with determination. _She needn't know. At least..at least now we know one of our opponents..._

 _No,_ I _know one of our opponents. She doesn't._

 **8/28/17**


	18. Stylists

**A shoutout to Muddyboots, jul312, DeadlyHuggles, and kealimepie, plus all the rest of you of course! Tysm for being with me in this story. :) Also, sorry for the slightly late update, Hurricane Harvey means no power and no computer to write this chapter. I started yesterday so.**

XX

 _ **Evelyn Glint(Skyrah's Stylist) (D1)**_

When I saw Skyrah, I just about _fainted_. Literally. She was just...no! What could I do to make her look pretty? I was assigned to One because I had been here a long time, and I was glad for that. It was so easy to make those blonde-haired, sparkling-eyed girls look like goddesses. But Skyrah? Maybe...I had an idea. She might pull off the empress look well. If not...well, I'd think of something.

Mark was better. At least he had the handsome kind of look to him. Dark blue eyes, messed up brown hair...the charm look would go great on him. Obviously I would do a suit, but it had to be ...fantastic. Not just black and white. What color would stand out... Oh! Yes! Pink! Pink would be _perfect_ on him, and maybe I could add some kind of hat to him too.

I asked for Colic's opinion and he agreed.

* * *

 _ **Echo Morose(Felix's Stylist) (D2)**_

Ugh, why did people underestimate me just because of my last name?! I got District Two _again_. I didn't want to get the heartless Districts, I wanted the ones who actually had some common sense in them. Sure, I had been working here for a long time, but at least they could've heard me out and given me something less typical. Two was so easy to do and I wanted a challenge, but the best I had ever gotten was Five.

 _I wish I were new.._ I thought grumpily. _Then I could do something more interesting. Now I'm too "experienced"._

Me and my fellow Two stylist, Tina, watched the Reapings through thoughtful eyes. Persefone looked really well trained, maybe we could do some kind of camouflage suit or soldier costume. Yes, that would work..maybe we could even combine both. And as for Felix..we could do the same thing. Except- he wouldn't look good with a camouflage suit, so I made sure not to include that.

Just what I thought. Another easy year. Why couldn't I receive a pr- er- a demotion?

* * *

 _ **Celeste Turner(Tyler's Stylist) (D3)**_

I focused mainly on Tyler because he was the tribute I was in charge of, even though Neon said that I had to be fair on both. I was so excited to be back, designing clothes instead of running my insanely boring shop. Being stylist was _so_ much fun- and you got paid!

Tyler was so easy to make up an outfit for. He would look great in a jumpsuit- despite Neon's groaning that he wouldn't- and I could put a star on the front to make him be noticed. This job was so important! I thought ecstatically. I had to make good first impressions!

Meanwhile, Calamity could have, eh, a jumpsuit maybe? Silver might look good on her, and then I could attach some wires across the front. That would do.

* * *

 _ **Dexter Bronzo(Algar's Stylist) (D4)**_

When I first saw Algar on TV, I was astonished. So he was rescued by the Capitol? Wow, I sincerely wished him luck in the actual Games. Azurine, meanwhile, was interesting to do. I decided upon a dress for her, one that would flow like ocean waves if I got all the measurements correct. Perfect for the District of fishing.

Then back to the topic of Algar.. I wanted to make him look really popping out. Four had to stand out so that everyone would root for them and sponsor them, and I would make sure of that. How to do that...why, jewels of course! Tons and tons of jewels, jewels in every shade of blue and covering him from head to toe. It would scream _District Four_ and I would make sure it shimmered also, to give it a glamour equivalent to One.

He also needed a headpiece, so I decided upon something like a crown...made of coral to highlight Four. I was so happy with the way my tributes would turn out, and so was my fellow stylist for Azurine, Jala.

* * *

 _ **Millie Kaff(Mica's Stylist) (D5)**_

I must've been the smartest stylist out there- I mean, seriously, all the others were so stupid! They thought so positively and optimistically I yearned for them to speak just one negative thought, and they seemed to be just about air-headed. Well, at least I wasn't. I could actually think straight, unlike most of them, and that was going to make my costume the best.

It was hard to watch the Reapings because every time my eyes laid on the dreary landscape, I felt coldly disrespectful. They were so...terrible, compared to us. Why didn't they just take a bath! It looked like they hadn't taken one in over a year.

The girl who stepped up, my partner Jordan Fray, noted, was...unusual. She had red hair, like it was dyed. Where'd she get the hair dye? But I also felt some respect toward her that at least she looked a bit more decent than the rest of them.

And as for the parade outfit...I had to make her look stunning. Gorgeous. Something to make her stand out from all the rest. I thought and thought and then we decided on a black dress, floorlength, with glowing patches to resemble a building with its lights on. The shoes would be glowing heels and I couldn't resist adding a giant light bulb for a hat. This would light her perfectly! I thought.

Then there was Mica. Mica was a skinny boy, I noted, my mouth pulling down at the corners with barely veiled disapproval. He had a brilliant smile, adorably big eyes, and an upturned nose. Hmm, what could I do for him? I wondered. Definitely a suit, but it needed some light, something to make everyone go _wow_. Maybe..maybe flashing lights? They could be different colors, to make it really pop. I was so excited to begin making the suit that I didn't even consult Jordan first.

* * *

 ** _Ashen Robinson(Cameron's Stylist) (D6)_**

Bleh. I hated this job. Why was I a stylist? This job stunk. I hated being with clothes and doing all that, so mainly I just pushed all the work onto my partner, a sweet girl willing to do anything I wanted because she was just too nice. Her name was Samantha.

I barely paid attention to the Reapings because I knew Samantha would have it all taken care of, but that was when she turned to me, and gone was her smile. She said in a hard, steely tone, "What do you think we should do with Cameron?"

I blinked at her, confused. Who the heck was Cameron? "Um..," I said nervously, plucking at the sofa. "Who's that?"

She stared at me for a long moment, eyes blazing. Then she slapped me in the face.

"Hey!" I shouted, glaring at her. "What was that for?"

"You know," she hissed, seething like a dragon. "Don't shove onto me all the work and do it yourself." With that, she turned away and stomped out of the room in a flurry of pink satin. I stared after her, breathing heavily.

What was I going to do now? I couldn't make clothes. There was no way. I had always relied on my smile to make things good again. How had Samantha changed? Did somebody tell her? Ughhhhh. "Holy crap," I muttered to myself, pushing a hand through my dark hair. "Crap, crap, crap, _crap_."

God help me... I thought miserably. What was I going to do?!

* * *

 _ **Bea Blanc (Spruce's Stylist) (D7)**_

Yay! The tree District again! I was so glad to be doing this again because I always had the best ideas for Seven, I was sure I would do great this year too. I would make amazing trees this year, better than last. I didn't understand why everyone always hated on my tree costumes; they were simply gorgeous! Made from the purest of woods, if that was a thing, and fitting perfectly around my tributes!

Spruce looked very nice and I was so excited to get to work on him. His hair would fit perfectly with his costume, and his eyes were a sharp contrast, in a good way. He did look a bit...I don't know...tired? but I was sure I could fix that up. What couldn't my prep team do?

Since I was his stylist, I focused mainly on him. I made him have a suit this time, because everyone was always so negative about my trees, and more than enough tributes had complained how difficult it was to move around in them. It would be in the color brown, of course. Then, to make it a bit more highlighting nature, I added strings of leaves to go around his head and arms, draping about him magnificently.

I spent so much time on his outfit that before I knew it, it was midnight and I was yawning. I looked over at my partner, Corbin, who's brow was furrowed with concentration. He glanced up at me and forced a tired smile. "What've you got, B?"

I showed him my design excitedly and he gave all the right remarks, showing his in turn. I hadn't paid much attention to the girl, Alison or Alma or whatever her name was, but I knew instantly that his costume would go great. It included a bunch of bark-shape tattoos on the arms and legs, and there were tons of branches spun together into one dress. How he would do that, I didn't know, but I was sure he could pull it off nicely.

I was so eager to get started and meeting my tribute. Everything would be perfect!

* * *

 ** _Jonas Floreti (Lace's Stylist) (D8)_**

The moment I saw Lace, I knew she was going to be amazing. I just loved her spirit. My pen slid across my notepad fluidly, sketching down ideas and figures. I would do a deep sapphire dress, darkly colored to match her black hair. She would have coils of gems around her wrists and ankles, basically bathed in jewelry. As for her head...I drew a picture of a braided crown, not even caring that it had nothing to do with Eight. I would worry about that later.

Then I saw Leah, my partner's, picture and relaxed. She was drawing a magnificent blue suit to go with my dress, and her eyes darted to refer to my picture every minute or so. A couple green accents gleamed on the suit, so that it almost looked like we were designing costumes for Four, not Eight.

"Hey, Leah..," I began, wanting to point this out so that we could revise it, but she ignored me, her attention blazing on Rowan. I shrugged, pushing the thought away, and continued sketching my dreams.

When we were done...I was a bit concerned, to say the least. We had both done a great job, but the president would surely dislike how it had nothing to do with Eight's profession. My shoulders slumped, along with my heart, as I looked with yearning at the dress, wanting it to come true but knowing it was impossible.

"Leah," I started again, heart pounding rapidly against my chest.

She looked at me, eyelashes fluttering, blue hair waving around her shoulders. "Yes?" She folded her hands delicately, as if daring me to speak.

"Well, I...you see, these costumes, they won't be allowed."

"Says who?" she tipped her head, a look of childish curiosity on her face.

"Says the Capitol," I mumbled. "Says the president."

"Oh." She cast her gaze down, blinking rapidly the whole time as if she could not comprehend this. "Oh," she said again, dumbly.

"Yes, it's true," I took one of her hands and squeezed it, feeling guilty for breaking this to her. I always treated her like a child, because she acted that way, and now was no different.

She ripped her hand away and twisted around, lip twitching. Was she going to cry? I stepped forward, ready to comfort her, but she swept out of the room before I could do anything. I wondered what all that was about.

* * *

 _ **Vivian Kohl (Zahava's Stylist) (D9)**_

I watched the Reapings with increasing interest. I was always interested about the Districts, wanting to know more about them because they seemed so foreign compared to us, living rich lives. Well, we weren't really that rich, unlike most people thought. We were richer than the Districts, sure, but we didn't have jewels scattered around our house or anything like that. I had just a normal house, with nothing out of the ordinary, just the necessities. Many were disbelieving, but it was true.

I was positively bursting with ideas about Zahava, but decided on a Peacekeeper uniform. Sure, Nine wasn't about that, it was about wheat, but Two got good ratings on it last year so why not give it a try?

My partner, Edward, was disapproving of my idea. He was a total Capitolite, serving the president in every way possible. I rolled my eyes at his outfit. He intended Cornell to wear only a white loincloth and be sprinkled with gold glitter. It was very to the topic but...not the best costume. Of course, he didn't care. He just wanted the Capitol to like him.

I watched all the Reapings and really liked Lace's. She was so vivacious and fiery...it brought to mind another person, but of course I didn't let it come to the surface. He was dead now and I could not think about him, not now. I tried to be like him every day so that he would always "be with me" for the rest of my life.

I had promised myself that I would never love somebody again, or get too attached to a tribute because then when they died, my heart would go with them. That happened to me with him, and I couldn't risk it again. I had fallen into depression and it had taken a while for me to swim my way back.

Zahava was an interesting name, I thought. Nothing like the Capitol names...it was almost exotic-sounding. I was so eager to meet her, she looked so strong standing up there. But of course, I thought that about every tribute I came across.

I vowed that I would help her to the end, just like I did for all the rest of them. She would not die, and have a loved one receive her dead body. No, no, this year, I was going to help her win..by being out of the ordinary. Everyone would think that she was from Two, and when they found out the truth, I wanted to see the looks on their faces.

* * *

 _ **Keith Porkona (Dahlia's Stylist) (D10)**_

I calmly watched the Reapings. Then I calmly thought about outfits. Afterward I calmly sketched my ideas out on paper. Okay, okay, I think you get the idea. I am a very calm person. I rarely ever show feelings in public, only with my family and my children. If I kept up this calm, detached persona around them, they would just crack up, anyways.

The outfit I had chosen was a cowgirl outfit. It would look so adorable, I thought. I would definitely have to try it on my girls when this was all over. The outfit had a pink hat, wide on the outside, and her hair would definitely have to go in two pigtails. I allowed myself a chuckle, my heart reaching out to her because she reminded me of Felicity and Lynn.

I glanced at the chattering Dove Elvkin, who was showing me her outfit with great enthusiasm. The boy, Murray, would have painted black-and-white skin, like a cow's, with even a tail. There would be a cow mask, of course, plus one of those weird costume things in the shape of a cow, looking very hot indeed. Poor Murray. He would get roasted alive.

My thoughts strayed back again to Felicity and Lynn, because Dahlia was just so much like them. I smiled to myself and Dove shot me a quizzical glance. Ah, yes. She was used to my blank emotions by now. No wonder she was surprised.

They weren't my daughters, I told myself shortly. Nobody could replace my darlings.

* * *

 _ **Semele Dawns (Elizabeth's Stylist) (D11)**_

Hmm..what could I do for Elizabeth? I tapped my ballpoint pin against my chin, thinking hard. Maybe I could do a dress of some sort? Or maybe even a blouse, inspired off of her Reaping outfit? I was new and inexperienced, and unexpectedly, this put on me a bout of stress that I did not like.

I thought about my training. I had been wanting this since I was little...Think, Semele, think! What could I do for her? I looked back at the paused TV and saw the clear picture of her standing at the stage. Her skin was super pale, and her face was covered in freckles. Her hair was long and slightly wavy, in the color light blonde. She looked really sweet and shy, kind of sweeping her gaze awkwardly to the crowd. She was very tall, I noticed as I saw her beside her partner. He was a smidgen shorter than her.

I decided on a dress and a cute hairpiece for her, to highlight the shyness of her eyes, though it was more like _closed and guarded_. She would just have simple black flats, not those fancy things other stylists insisted on, with knee-high white socks. She almost looked like a schoolgirl in my drawing, I observed. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

I added a couple more things that I thought would give it a great touch, then decided it done. My more experienced partner, Crow, looked up at me in surprise.

"Already done?" he asked. I nodded, beaming proudly.

"Nice job," he said slightly, but the praise didn't go to his eyes. A certain degree of jealousy was in there instead, and my smile grew wider. He was more experienced than me and was jealous! Good job, me! Then I felt a twinge of pity and my thoughts abruptly shut up. I wondered where they had gone.

* * *

 ** _Wofford Clixi (Alice's Stylist) (D12)_**

Everybody always said that I had a weird name, and the president didn't really like me besides. Was it because of my charm? I thought smugly. But nevertheless, I was always placed to do Twelve, even though I'd been a stylist for seven years and should've been moved to at least Ten by now. I didn't mind, though. That meant I got all the cute girls. Their exhaustion, determined spark, or outright crying made them attractive.

I was so excited when I saw the girl I was assigned to do. She was absolutely beautiful! An angel, I thought admiringly. I had to do something to make these traits stand out. Maybe I could do a dress, yes, a dress would work. And it would be silver and white, angel colors.

I even made some wings, before I realized that I was doing Twelve, and not One. Grudgingly, I began accenting the outfit with coal-black, dusting it over with some powder I would get...somewhere. That didn't matter just yet.

I looked at Eva, my partner, for ideas because mine seriously stunk, then quickly glanced back. She was doing a black muscle shirt, combat boots, and cargo pants for Jackson. Alice's innocence would be just about ruined by that costume.

I took away the black and decided to just make a purplish-black dress that went down to her thighs. She would have a dark headband in her blonde hair, pretty shoes, and socks with lace trim. I hoped she didn't look like a devil in the outfit, but I had to admit that would make her kind of cute too.

I was so rooting for Alice. Such a pretty girl deserved to win, I thought with a huff as I watched the other Reapings. I would give her all the luck she needed. Maybe I could even sponsor.

 **9/1/17**


	19. It's Called A Parade

**Note- The character who is narrating is a Capitolite because I thought it would be cool that way. Warning, she is very clueless. Her name is Titania Sparkl.**

* * *

Oh. My. GOSH! I was so so so so _so_ excited! It was the day of the annual Parade and I could not wait. I was so excited to see how they would look, and so me and my boyfriend Justin ordered front row seats. It was necessary, trust me.

We had to wait like seven hours of commercials until finally they spared us and just started the parade. Thank goodness! I thought I was about to die! The heat was seriously giving me a tan and I wasn't even at the beach.

The first chariots began starting down the stadium and with them the tributes. The first held District One, of course, which was, like, the best District in my opinion. They were obviously going to win because they were Careers- and the best ones at that.

The girl, Skyrah, was, like, so ugly, to my surprise. She had glasses which was totally terrible, and she was dressed like an empress, complete with a giant dress that sparkled and big mounds of makeup on her face in an effort to make her look better. To no avail, obviously.

The guy, Mark, was, like, totally hot. I'm not saying Justin's worse, because obviously he's much more handsome, but in terms of Districts, Mark was over the average. He had dark blue eyes that were so amazing, but his plain brown hair could use some dye. He was wearing a pink suit and displaying his muscles to the girls.

Then there was Persefone. She was wearing this camouflage soldier thing, which was like the ugliest thing in the world. I pitied her even though she looked like she was trying her best to make everyone feel the opposite.

Eh, Felix was okay. He wasn't hot like Mark, which was why everyone wasn't showering him in flowers. He was wearing the same ugly soldier outfit, but it was better on him because at least it showed off his Career muscles.

Calamity just sat there with a smirk on her face. I wanted to wipe it off her because it pulled down at her mouth and made her unattractive. Her hair was just curly brown, and she was pretty average. Her clothes, with the wires on the front, did not help.

Tyler was...meh. He just looked like a nerd, he didn't even need glasses. There was a really light star on his shirt that made my eyes hurt, so I guess he wasn't too good, but at least he had red hair, which was kind of close to dyed. He needed some makeup to cover up those freckles, though. They were _hideous._

Then there was Azurine. She was very short, and the frown on her face was a bit disconcerting. Her dress was like the ocean waves; her stylist had done a good job. I was totally going to buy that dress when it came out in stores.

Algar was dressed in a suit of blue jewels. It seemed that a lot of girls found him hot because he had "heroically" turned up at the Capitol's door, and they screamed as he came by, tossing roses by the hundreds. Honestly, he wasn't really that handsome, in my opinion.

The girl, Twyla, from District Five, killed everyone else. She was wearing a long black dress that had patches like lights. She wore it well, a smile plastered upon her face and waving monotonously as the boys ran over each other to get her attention. Her hair was so cool, I was totally going to get that same hair dye after the parade.

Her partner, Mica, looked super happy, and that was all. I could tell he was thin even through the fat suit, an attempt to make him look plumper. The flashing colors distracted from this trait, causing me to look away, but I thought it looked pretty neat. Their stylist had done a great job.

Harriet was hilarious. I mean, she was a _tire_. There was a bunch of dust on her so she looked like a sand-snowman or something. Then- and seriously, I'm not even joking- she TRIPPED AND FELL OUT OF HER CHARIOT! Her tire costume thing sent her rolling down the road and everyone broke out in laughter. Jeez, that must be embarrassing.

Cameron was- OH MY GOSH. My heart began racing like doubletime because of his utter hotness. I wanted to squeal like seven-year-old girls do when their crush comes sauntering up the hallway. But...Justin was there. And he was kind of watching me like he wanted to know if I thought Cameron handsome. So I just stifled it even though I felt like he could tell by my endless swallowing.

Then Justin said something plainly. He said, "Why are you swallowing?"

I laughed nervously, toying with the ends of my silky gold hair. "Um...well, you see, swallowing is a natural part of life...everyone has to swallow..."

He stared at me so hard I blushed madly. He finally replied, "But you're not eating. The only time anyone swallows is when they eat."

"Ah...yes, you're right, but I got something stuck between my teeth- I think it was that zucchini I ate earlier- and I had to swallow it. There's no trash can around...," I stated, still fumbling with my hair.

He relaxed. "I suppose you're right. There _is_ no trash can around."

 _Whew! That was a close one!_ I thought, free to "swallow zucchini" as much as I wanted. Cameron had messy brown hair, light skin and bright blue eyes. He looked pretty young, probably only twelve or thirteen. I made note to sponsor him as much as I could during his Games. He had to win! He just had to!

I could also see a bunch of other girls, younger than me and around nine or ten, tossing flowers carelessly at him. He flashed a smile back to one girl who went to my school- Fiona Oneletto- who shrieked and fainted. Her friends surrounded her in concern.

The next carriage went by, the horse a lean brown one with dark, serious eyes. Alea Bryce was dressed in this tree thing. It was a dress made up of a bunch of branches woven together expertly and tattoos on every patch of skin showing so she looked exactly as she was supposed to be, but it was very ugly nonetheless. Seven always was.

Spruce was okay I guess. He was just wearing a brown suit with leaves for a headpiece and going around his arms. It was kind of plain and boring in that nature-green bleh way so I didn't really pay much attention.

District Eight _rocked_ this year. They made everyone look like trash, even Twyla. I didn't even know it was allowed and I sneaked a glance at President Snow a couple times, but he seemed unconcerned. Lace and Rowan were both dressed in matching blue fabrics, her a dress and him a suit. Jewels were basically everywhere on Lace and she was scowling at them, shaking them to the ground dramatically. Rowan was more mature but he still showed distinct dislike for his costume.

District Nine was weird. Zahava was a Peacekeeper- was she trying to be like Two? Nobody could replace Two...

Cornell scared me. He was ducking behind Zahava and blushing furiously, covered in only a white loincloth plus some glitter. There was still a somewhat joking glint in his eyes but not enough to revive him from his embarrassment. The girls were giggling to each other from the audience and taking as many pictures as they could to post on social media.

Ten was boring. They were just farmers again. Well, correction, Dahlia was a farmer, and she was exclaiming stuff to Murray who took it disinterestedly. Then she looked up and saw her stylist, Keith, and I caught him waving a hand frantically at Murray. She tipped her head slightly and poked her District partner with her rake. Murray, who was dressed in one of those cow costumes that always entertained little kids, fell to the ground, startled. Yay! Another thing to post on social media.

District Eleven was the District of agriculture so they were always so boring. Elizabeth was just wearing a dress and flats. So plain. There was a faint blush on her cheeks- probably shy. Amil was okay...he was kind of hot and he definitely thought so because he was winking flirtatiously into the audience. Those tributes always made me feel so giggly inside.

Twelve was generally always the worst, but this year they weren't bad. They weren't anything epic like Eight or Four, but at least halfway decent. Alice, who was so small and angelic I had to consider sponsoring her, was wearing a black dress that, when catching the light, turned a purplish color. Like coal I guess.

Jackson looked like...I don't know...some kind of rebel? He was wearing black combat boots, black cargo pants, and a black muscle shirt which all the girls screamed at. There was an extra coat of makeup on his face. I wondered what all that was about.

My gaze lingered on Cameron a second too long and Justin frowned. I quickly kissed him to make him shut up and ended up getting lipstick smeared all over his face. Oh, well. He'd have that to worry about and I'd get to keep looking at Cameron—yay!

As he was wiping at his face, I saw my friend Jessamine come over to me. She looked like she had at least forty pounds of makeup on her face- her lips were an unnatural shade of red, eyes heavily lined in black. Silver face paint glittered as the light shifted and she smirked as I watched in amazement. Jessamine was rich so she could afford that kind of thing, I thought envyingly.

"Hey, girl!" she said, turning to Justin with an extra flirtatious smile. Her green eyes were shimmering and her hair glossy, every thread on her dress flawless. I kissed Justin again to settle territory and then gazed sweetly back. She tried to hide a small frown.

"Hey!" I purred, linking my arm through hers. "You look fabulous!"

"Oh, I know," she smiled, sharp white teeth showing. She turned in her dress and the sun made the silver slivers of plastic shift suddenly, turning an aqua blue color. She noticed the direction of my eyes and beamed.

"Do you like the dress?" she asked.

"Oh, it's wonderful," I gave her a truthful smile. We tossed compliments to each other back and forth until Jessamine got bored and told me why she was there.

"So you know, Algar?" she began, nodding to the boy in the suit up at the front.

I nodded. "Yeah, he showed up randomly, right?"

"Well, not randomly," she prodded. "Caesar said they had magic transport buttons or something."

"So?" I didn't get her point.

"Well, I just thought maybe we should, um, meet him when he's walking back." She pretended to stammer but you could read the truth in her eyes.

"Why?" I still didn't get her point.

"So we can talk to him! Find out the truth! You know!" she burst out impatiently.

"I didn't know that," I said honestly.

She looked like she was about to call me dumb before she remembered her manners and said sympathetically, "Oh, you poor thing, I'm sorry if I made you feel...er...embarrassed or anything, I really didn't mean that." She lowered her lashes, catlike.

"No, no, you didn't make me feel anything!" I fibbed, reassuring her of her own lie. "I am completely fine."

"That's good." She smiled once more at me until I felt that her mouth was going to get stretched by the end of today. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course," I replied, though I wasn't too sure of it. Find out the truth? I didn't really want to know...but protocol stuck with me and I could not deny her.

"Good," she said brightly. "Now you stay here, Justin, and we'll go!" She led me out of the stadium before he could argue and we crossed the perfectly polished hallway. There was gold filigree all over the walls in patterns of leaves, and the floor was lavishly decorated. Velvet lined the edges, twinkling newly.

"Are you sure we'll be able to see them?" I said hurriedly, anything to make her stop. But she continued on her brisk pace and seemed to be completely sure of her decision.

"Of course! The hallway they go out on is that way, by the way," she told me, pointing her finger sharply to the right.

I gaped at her. "But that's the forbidden hallway! No one can go that way."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing." She tugged me along after her and I tried to kick at her but I couldn't. Ugh! Stupid Jessamine! What if we got in trouble? Maybe..maybe I could play dumb and blame Jess? Ooh, good idea. It had been her idea after all.

We crossed countless intersections before we finally reached the other side of the stadium. Tributes were filing out of it and Jess quickly shoved me into a storage closet. I was knocked against rolls of toilet paper as she shut the door behind us, leaving only a tiny crack to look out.

"There he is!" she exclaimed.

"Algar?" I rubbed my head and pushed the crinkled toilet paper off me.

"No, Cameron!" Wild excitement lit up her eyes.

"So...?" I had to admit that my heart was beating as rapidly as hers. Cameron! We would be able to see him up close and personal! Just one more look at those impossibly bright eyes, the blue suit and white bowtie, the messy hair...

I could tell Jessamine was thinking the exact same thing and she said snootily, "You've got a boyfriend."

I jutted my chin up sharply and retorted, "I don't like him." I tried to put emphasis on my words but it was like totally obvious I was lying.

"You do," she accused.

"You do too," I answered simply, fists clenching. "But anyway- here he comes. You don't want to miss him, do you?"

She brightened and peeked back out of the doorway. She popped her head back in with a tiny squeal. "OMG! I JUST SAW HIM!"

"...you know he's gonna die, right?"

An angry look crossed over Jess's face. "Don't say that."

"Sorry, I just did," I dropped my gaze apologetically, though inside I felt triumphant.

"Oh, shut up!" Jess trotted out of the storage closet and tapped Cameron on the shoulder. "Hi," she said, her voice suddenly becoming silky sweet.

He looked startled for a moment before forcing a smile. "Hello," he said. "How'd you get here?"

She looked down. "I-I got lost," she answered breathlessly, then shot him a smile in return. "Will you help me find my way back?"

He tilted his head at her, giving me a perfect view to just stare into his amazing eyes. So bright, so blue... I thought, forgetting Justin entirely. "Of course," he finally said. "Come along." He began leading the way back and Jess twisted around to grin at me, bullets shooting from her eyes. I scowled. Could I follow them? I took a deep breath and decided yes.

Which ended up in Cameron discovering me, by the way. Ugh. I was never going to try that again. I could call it "#MostEmbarrassingMomentOfMyLife" easily. I had never gotten caught by one of my crushes or something like that. But Cameron...he was different. I was totally rooting for him, even through my reddened face.

 **Lol sorry it's kind of boring but I finished the actual parade around 1600 and felt unsatisfied. 9/4/17**


	20. Careers Get Exposed

**Author's Note: Enjoy! Haha, you must be like, "hey, why does Algar get all the interesting stuff?" Don't worry, I'll have more interesting things to come. Algar's gonna disappear for a little while and when he comes back...let's just say, it won't be too good. So yeah. You want your character getting consequences? xD Also sorry DeadlyHuggles, Mark's probably gonna have some trouble in the Bloodbath now. ;P BUT DON'T WORRY! HE WILL GET HIS JUSTICE. OR WHATEVER THE WORD IS.**

 ** _Skyrah Labelle (D1 Female)_**

Mark was so annoying. He could be "charming", but on the inside, he was just another typical, confident Career. Nevertheless, he was still somebody, and if he didn't treat me as terribly as Ray did, I wouldn't be negative to him. At least, to his face. In my mind, well, I'd already observed a lot of things.

First of all, he would get a lot of sponsors. That part was evident in the long conversations between him and his mentor, talking about the best ways to make him appear vulnerable and in need of help- but at the same time confident and self-righteous. I wasn't allowed into any of these conversations, much to my disappointment.

My spirits were up the next day when we were to go to Training. I would meet my fellow Careers! Hopefully they weren't those cruel ones who only cared about killing the most opponents and winning the Games. What about friendship? What about actual humanity?

A knock was thrown stiffly onto my door and I sat up, in the middle of adjusting my training outfit. It was so large for me! They must've envisioned a two-hundred pound, six feet tall girl wearing this. "Come in!" I said, a shiver of excitement passing through me.

My mentor came in and said promptly, "It's time for your first day of Training, Skyrah!"

"Excellent," I said eagerly, bubbles of words coming to my mouth so fast I didn't know which to say first. "I'm so excited to be training at last. I bet I'll learn loads more things to add onto what I did back at home."

She nodded solemnly and we walked out into the hallway, going in the direction of the Training place. My nerves were tense, a knot of dread coiled deep inside me despite myself. I prayed that my fellow Careers would be nice. _Please be nice._

The next few minutes passed in a blur, and before I knew it, I was standing there alone, the only person in the giant room. Uhh...this was awkward. Where was everyone else? Was I early? I dismissed this all and simply stood there, breathing in and out to calm myself.

A girl, boy, their mentors, and their escort trotted into the room, eyes squinting to adjust to the light. The boy I recognized- I had seen him on his chariot. His red hair had been easy to notice amid all the duller colors. His name was Tristan or something like that.

"Hello," the escort said respectfully, dipping a head of dyed locks. Tristan and the girl awkwardly shuffled into the room.

"Well we're early, aren't we?" I began, trying to sound friendly. "What are your names?"

Tristan and the girl exchanged glances. "Um..I'm Tyler," the boy said first. Oh. So his name was Tyler, not Tristan.

"And you?" I gazed at the girl evenly.

"Calamity," she answered stiffly, eyes staring straight forward. Her fingers were twisted within each other.

"Cool!" I complimented. "Calamity's an interesting name."

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I tried to strike up a conversation several times but Calamity viewed me with suspicion (probably because I was a so-called Career) plus a bit of not-paying attention (dreaminess?) and Tyler looked extremely nervous.

Finally I gave up and resorted to waiting for my fellow tributes. Surely they would talk more.

The other tributes filed in quickly after that, and I glanced around for Mark, finding him in the corner talking to a black-haired boy who had received a ton of flowers at the Parade. _Algar_ , I remembered.

I wandered over to them and introduced myself politely. Algar looked at me with an intense blue gaze, so sharp I almost flinched. He had tanned skin and black hair, kind of like all the rest of Four's tributes.

"Hello," he said cautiously. He had a shifting aura, as if he had many different personalities at once and they were randomly appearing from time to time.

"So, we're Careers now, aren't we?" I replied. "Where's your District partner?"

Algar nodded over to where the girl was leaning against the wall, alone, smirking at the air.

"How about District Two?" I continued.

He shrugged. "Don't care."

"So...why'd you tell me where your District partner is if you don't care?" I questioned carefully. Ooh, I wondered what he'd say.

His eyes flashed and his lip curled. "I don't care about Two," he clarified, clearly trying to stay calm. "You know, Seashire, I'm just going to leave. This girl is driving me crazy with all her _questions_." He glared at me and strode off, back stick-straight and heels slapping the ground. I looked down at my feet, a worm of anger filling my heart. He was obviously one of those mean Careers...but then again, I'd seen that shifting attitude.

Maybe...and only maybe...he was actually nice on the inside? Perhaps he was just trying to pretend like he didn't care; his mask _had_ evaporated when I had asked him about his District partner.

Cheering up a little with that conclusion, I decided to go talk to Azurine.

* * *

 _ **Felix Saunders (D2 Male)**_

I hoped Persefone didn't catch me mediating again. Last time was so embarrassing. At least I would have a fresh start with the rest of the Careers.

We arrived late because I had a panic attack and _that_ almost caused my epilepsy. Oh, dear God, I hoped that didn't happen in the arena. I would probably die what with being starved and worn thin at the same time, plus without medical attention.

I had had a fitful sleep last night, for some reason, even though I was plenty nervous. I was grateful, though, because that meant tons of energy reserved for today. I wasn't so sure I wanted to intimidate everyone though...I thought it was better to hide my strengths until I used it in the arena.

I glanced around the place with interest. It was a big room, with stations for each skill- survival and combat combined. For right now, they were still waiting on a couple more people, and the tributes loitered to the side, some exchanging words with others.

Persefone, beside me, narrowed her eyes, as if she could already sense my weakness to the Pack. She already knew so much about me...what if she told them and they threw me out into the wild? They could get rid of me easily, I would be outnumbered at most five to one. And they didn't have much conscience.

I rid myself of these thoughts and focused on being the best I could be, a determined wave coming over me. If I won, my parents would be so proud of me. And that was what mattered, not Persefone. At least, not for right now.

I saw the other Careers almost immediately. The District One girl was talking excitedly with the girl from Four, while the District One boy was smugly standing there in the corner, arms crossed, and Algar was sweeping his flashing gaze over the tributes.

Persefone separated from me to go and interrogate the District One boy, who looked down his nose at her and seemed reluctant to speak, as if that would ruin his coolness. I wondered who I should introduce myself to and decided on Algar. He was pretty interesting, and I wanted to know how he had turned up at the Capitol. That button thing didn't exactly sound genuine.

"Hey," I said, approaching the seventeen-year-old. He turned to me, his whole body tensing, and I stiffened as his intense gaze fell on me.

He growled, "What the hell are you doing, loser?"

I shuffled in place for a moment, contemplating. "Why call me a loser? I think I'm actually a rather good asset."

He narrowed his eyes. "Everyone knows how you got beat up when you weren't even the actual chosen one- and, in everything unfair, you won the battle."

"Um. Yeah. Exactly. I don't see your point," I replied calmly.

He clenched his fists, muttering a bunch of swear words under his breath. "You weren't supposed to be here. You _aren't_ supposed to be here. You weren't even the chosen one and that makes you a weakling."

"A...weakling?" I tipped my head, a smug grin landing on my face.

"Yes, a weakling. Do you not know what that is? Perhaps you should go back to kindergarten." There was a weird way he said the words, as if he were biting on every one of them. His icy, guarded expression shifted slightly but not enough to reveal what was underneath.

"Thank you for the advice. Maybe I will," I said softly, all raising eyebrows.

"Good," he rumbled. "Now leave me alone." Algar turned away, his armor impenetrable, eyes stony cold. I could sense that I couldn't get anything else from him and left, instead going to see the different stations.

Just then, the training instructor blew her whistle. Everyone gathered around her and she declared, "Training is now open!"

* * *

 _ **Algar Black (D4 Male)**_

The first thing I thought some stoic, uncaring person would do was go to the spear section and show off. After all, I had achieved my winning thing with the spears. Every sensible, superior Career would do that, I thought grudgingly.

I kind of regretted saying all that to the boy, Felix, for some odd reason, but I ignored it stubbornly. A couple minutes later, the whistle blew- and we all gathered in the center of the room. The woman from the Capitol said in a high-pitched voice, "Welcome, tributes, to Training! If you want to learn more about combat, they will be to your right." She pointed. "If you are having trouble with survival techniques, the left might be your choice.

"I hope you all have a wonderful time here and wish you all luck in the Games!" she finished brightly. The crowd began dispersing almost immediately, everyone pushing and shoving in their excitement to get to a station. I noticed that a large group was gathered around the archery section, eyes widening as a Career(Persefone probably?) released an arrow. It hit bull's eye, and she, a serious look on her face, padded off.

I decided to just join up with the rest of the Careers and create an intimidating wall. I had already pushed aside Skyrah and Felix, but maybe they would give me a second chance. _Doubtful_ , I thought, a bout of fear passing up my spine at just the prospect. To be honest, I was quite scared of the Games, but of course I wasn't going to admit that.

I headed over to Persefone, who stared at me with no emotion in her eyes but fire. She said finally, "Mr. Black, huh?"

I almost winced. That was what they had called me before I was to be on the stage, used as a puppet. I steadied myself and said in a bored drawl, "I would prefer Algar, thank you."

She tipped her head slightly to the side, studying me, still that monotone fire in her gaze. She was muscular like a normal Career, like me, with a tall figure and long black hair put in a high ponytail. Her eyes were just regular green.

"Alright, then," she said finally. "I'll call you Algar." No humor at all in her voice.

"Good," I rumbled. "Now, where's the rest of the Careers? I thought we were to stick together as one group?"

She still didn't make any clear emotion pass through. I assumed she probably only did to her friends or something. "Yes, yes we were," she said. "Now I suppose we could gather them?"

I nodded stiffly, my heart aching to be set free, and we walked across the room to the others. Skyrah, Felix, and Azurine were hefting axes at each other, while Mark threw spears in the station right next to them. I went first to the girls and Felix, because I knew they were less difficult than Mark. Well, I hadn't really gotten to know Azurine all that well yet, but I was pretty sure she couldn't be as irritating as the District One male.

Skyrah popped her head up, a sheen of sweat running off her forehead. A small friendly smile stretched across her mouth and I found it quite welcoming, even though I didn't care to admit it. _Algar..._ I growled to myself. _Remember your wishes! Remember your_ self!

She said respectfully as I got closer, "Hey, Algar." Of course she knew my name. Everyone knew my name by now because of that stupid thing on television. Ugh.

"Hey," I grunted back. Persefone picked up an axe and rubbed it between her palms. She had probably never used an axe before because they were Seven's specialty, and the trainers hadn't bothered to teach us about it.

"So, do you want to join us?" she asked. I hesitated, a knife cutting across my heart. Why had I brought up the "stick together as one group" part? I would only get close to them and I couldn't let my heart free. It must always be guarded behind iron bars.

"Why not," I said at last, letting the tenseness gradually melt from my muscles. I would train with them, but I would not get close to them. I had to promise myself just that.

She brightened slightly and handed me an axe. It felt gritty between my hands, like sand. It had clearly not been trimmed neatly, and now it interfered whenever I tried to hold it. "Ugh," I muttered. "How do you hold this thing?"

Mark smirked but said nothing, and it was Skyrah who rushed to help me. "Like this." She took the axe expertly and her fingers naturally curled around it, avoiding the pieces of wood sticking out. "There's a special hand-grip right here, it's just not very noticeable," she explained.

"Alright, alright," I cut in roughly, the lock coming back over the iron bars. "I get it." I snatched the axe back from her and did what she said. She looked a bit wounded but didn't speak. _That's the way to close your heart, Algar,_ my inner soul whispered. _Drive all else away..and your heart will never be damaged._

Everyone- that is, all of the Careers- were staring at me now, and I swallowed. I had never used an axe before. Could I do it? Nobody had ever taught me how to swing it and surely nobody would now.. I closed my fingers firmly against the grip and then said coolly, "Who's up?"

"Me," Mark volunteered at once, eyes glinting. He swung his sword in an arc before settling it comfortably in his hands, muscles rippling beneath his sleeve. I swallowed once more, swallowed all the nerves and let my cool, uninterested aura settle around me. _He's nothing. Nothing at all._

Mark approached with calm, careful steps, graceful as a cat, calculating as a tiger. I slipped slowly to the right and he followed, nearing me every second. Reluctant, I began to back away, picking up pace in every step until I was full-out speed-walking, and he too. Finally, Mark let out an animal roar and charged, that confident, snarky smile on his face all the while. I leaped to the side, heart beginning to pick up its pace, and swung my axe without thought, my eyes shutting instinctively.

I heard a scream, then a crunch, and then a couple shouts. My eyes slowly reopened, filled with thoughts of, _Oh, did I just slice his head off?_ and _That's...good, certainly. I didn't let my heart leave my soul._

But Mark was alive, simply bleeding. Well, not simply. It was kind of gory, actually. My axe had cut into his chest, and his shirt was torn to reveal dark blood. He was panting heavily, his breath coming out unevenly as he struggled to look at his wounded self. A deep gash was in his chest and that was where the source of the blood came from. Flesh looked clean ripped from his body, and as I lifted my axe, I could see blood dripping off it.

Mark's blood.

Then I remembered something- the training instructor. My brain struggled to remember her words, but once I did, my jaw dropped. She had said, _"You are forbidden to harm another tribute, by all means."_

My heart seemed to quicken its pace, my breath came in ragged gasps as I realized what I had done. _I had harmed another tribute._

So I did the only thing I could do.

I ran.

 **9/7/17**


	21. Food Is A Brilliant Thing

**A/N: Hi! It's my birthday today! How old do you guys think I'm turning, based on my writing? :) kealimepie, i'm actually still recording the points but I don't want to stretch the page which is why I never put it on a chapter.**

 _ **Tyler Kaufman (D3 Male)**_

When Algar bolted, I wanted to chase after him. It was just this weird instinct curled up inside me that yearned to stretch, yearned to grow its vines back around my soul once more. I refused the tug in my heart and continued to shoot with my bow and arrow. It felt stiff and slack in my hands, and I felt that I'd never get used to it.

My District partner, Calamity, was next to me, her eyes fixed on the arrow with a look of concentration. So far we had both managed to get one arrow onto the target. The rest had...fallen all over the place.

We had agreed to be allies this morning, just because it would be easier to get more people with two strong. Plus allies were always good, even though there was the thing called _betrayal_ , but I didn't want to think about that now. No time for negative thoughts, now that I was in the pre-Games and needed to have all my mind focused on preparing.

Just then, the whistle blew. We all froze and I slowly turned around, knowing that it had something to do with Algar. Indeed, it did. The head trainer, a woman named Feline, pursed her lips together and said in a thunderous voice, "Who did this?"

A bunch of tributes shouted out, "Did what?" She hushed them quickly, spinning around to stare at them each. I gulped as her eyes landed on me, and her eyebrows went straight up, as if she'd caught the culprit. My whole body sagged...did she think I had done it?

Finally, she quit her staring and said in a low voice, "Where is Algar?"

The Careers near her stared boldly back, one of them, a dark-haired girl whom I thought was named Azurine, even having the gumption to say, "Oh, he dashed out of the room. Why, you needed him?"

"May I ask _who_ exactly did this to Seashire over here?" she demanded, flourishing a hand to the boy lying on the ground, jaw clenched, clearly fighting the urge to scream. A few marks were in his stomach, blood burning holes into his ripped shirt. The boy grunted, a look in his eyes that told of faintness. The blood was starting to make me nauseous.

Felix shuffled his feet, looking down as if not daring to speak the truth. There was a weird honest glow in Persefone's eyes but she didn't utter a thing as well. Azurine crossed her arms defiantly, while Skyrah looked scared to speak.

"Well?" Feline persisted.

"It was Algar," Skyrah blurted in a rush, casting a glance at the others. They shot dirty glares at her, as if she had just betrayed them, and a look of regret sparked clearly in her eyes, but it went slightly away as Feline gave her a nod of approval.

"Yes. It was quite obvious Algar did this. It could not just be a coincidence..now could it?" she said calmly.

"No, of course not," a couple of the people said in unison. I kept my mouth shut, not daring to speak.

"You," Feline commanded, her voice suddenly brisk. She pointed to Persefone. "Take two others and go get Algar." She gave a serious nod and beckoned to Azurine and Felix, eyeing Skyrah a smidgen too coldly.

Calamity and I practiced for a little while longer, but the whole conversation before with the Careers was stuck in my head. I wondered what they would do to Algar. Why did he always get into so much trouble?

First going missing and then turning up at the Capitol...now harming Mark, on purpose or not. What was next?

* * *

 _ **Mica Mendel (D5 Male)**_

I headed on over to the plant game somewhat nervously, wondering if I'd be good at it or not. I certainly hadn't practiced plants back in Five...

It was a giant screen, like that of a TV's, but much more thinner, unlike the box-shaped ones back at home. It was clear all the way through and touchscreen, one of the impossibilities the Capitol made possible.

I headed on over to the plant game somewhat nervously, wondering if I'd be good at it or not. I certainly hadn't practiced plants back in Five...

It was a giant screen, like that of a TV's, but much more thinner, unlike the box-shaped ones back at home. It was clear all the way through and touchscreen, one of the impossibilities the Capitol made possible.

There was a red button that said, "CLICK TO BEGIN." I pushed down on it, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did for a moment, then the screen lit up and a bunch of plants were illuminated. It was a sort of which ones were poisonous and which were not.

The first plant was a dark green leaf with little...white hairs on it? I honestly had no idea, so I went with "not poisonous". It didn't look deadly or anything...

The screen began flashing bright lights and the words "CORRECT" scrawled across. I brightened. Maybe I was good at this thing. I hit "NEXT" and waited for the next one. It appeared to be some kind of grassy thing, short and looking exactly like grass.

"Maybe this is a trick question," I thought aloud. "Maybe it's just...grass." Because of that train of thought, I went with "not poisonous".

Flashing lights went on again and at first I thought I was correct. Then the words "POISONOUS" flitted across the screen in a trail of red lights and I groaned. So it wasn't just grass. I would have to remember that in the arena.

 _Don't eat grass, Mica. Or anything that looks like it, for that matter._

The rest passed by in a blur. I got around half and half correct, but it was partially from guessing. A couple I'd seen from Five, but there weren't a lot of plants there so most answers fell on blank eyes. I would have to practice more at this game...later. I had wanted to try out some combat, after all.

I didn't really have one in mind so I just chose the station closest to me- throwing knives. I almost immediately regretted it when I saw one of the Careers, Skyrah, hefting knives one after the other, all of them hitting bull's eye.

I shuffled a little closer and looked down at the selection of knives. There were so many...some with sharp, needle-like blades, others with wide, smooth edges. I carefully selected one that had those spikes at the end- surely they would dig into the target more- and took the spot next to Skyrah.

She stopped throwing knives for a second, a great smile on her face, and turned around. I expected her to frown at me and say I was a noob, but instead, she beamed, as if the very thought of company was a miracle to her. "You're not getting the right knife," she corrected, and I stared down at my sharp one.

"You know, that's the kind for cutting meat," she informed me. "You need one of these." She chose a knife that was long and looked very heavy. The blade had none of those spikes.

"Then why'd they put this one here?" I set the other knife down, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment, fumbling slightly.

She shrugged. "To test your knowledge on knives, I guess." She took another knife and slipped it into her jacket. Taking one at a time, she threw them at the board. Sometimes she didn't make it, but most of the time it was one hundred percent accurate. She seemed surprised by these results, for whatever reason.

"What's your name?" she asked in a friendly voice. I looked down at my feet, pondering. Was she trying to get information out of me and use it against me in the Games? I had to trod carefully with this girl..

But of course, my name wouldn't do any harm. If she knew my face, then it didn't even matter if my name was lost in her mind, so I replied quickly, "Mica Mendel, you?"

"Oh." She smiled. "I'm Skyrah Labelle." She motioned to the knives. "Do you want to try?"

Eyebrows raising skeptically, I stood there as she handed me a knife. Clutching it like a lifeline, I flung it at the board, closing my eyes at the same time on instinct. It clattered to the ground and I slowly reopened one eye.

My knife hadn't even reached halfway across.

"Oh, gosh, I definitely need some practice." I tried to play it off with a smile, though really I was quite relieved to get the sharp object out of my hands, but Skyrah looked knowingly at me.

"Don't worry, it's fine. I can teach you." She grabbed another knife from her jacket while I was quickly blabbering lots of stuff- that I couldn't even remember, mind you.

"So first, you have to make sure you hold it correctly," she said lightly.

I held the knife like she said to. It felt so awkward in my hands, I wanted to dash it to the ground. It felt so dangerous and creepy, like it was about to turn on me and slit my throat. Arm shaking slightly, I asked her through the corner of my mouth, "Is it like this?"

She adjusted it a bit until I felt even _more_ awkward. It must've been an hour or so when I realized what time it was..

Time for lunch. I couldn't wait.

* * *

 _ **Calamity Astrea (D3 Female)**_

We entered the lunchroom. I wasn't so sure what I expected, but definitely not _this_. There were jewels everywhere! Diamond was basically thrown onto the wall in different places, to make a checkered pattern with the stained glass. The floor was smooth and slippery, made from perfectly cut marble. And then there were the tables- they weren't just plain wood, but those fancy, elaborate dining room tables I had read about before, covered in pearl-blue tablecloth and decorated with vases of flowers.

"Well, this place is an improvement!" I heard Skyrah remark cheerfully. Tyler, right next to me, nodded slightly, eyes wide.

"Tyler, do you have any idea where this escort is? He was supposed to be here," I whispered harshly. There was no sign of Warren anywhere.

Tyler shook his head. "No idea. I guess we should better sit down?"

I nodded and took the other chair. There was a stiff silence for a moment, then waiters and waitresses began serving the food. I looked at the menu and I could barely recognize any of this stuff. I mean, some we had had in Three, but not much. There was something called buttered corn- which I'd only had once when I was very young. We couldn't afford to put the small amount of butter we had on something so wasteful as corn. Then there was roast duck, and chicken noodle soup, and even something called "ravioli".

Tyler's eyes lit up when we reached the beverages. "There's so much!" he exclaimed excitedly. He was right. There was tea in all sorts of flavors, iced tea, lemon raspberry, you name it. But the thing that caught my eye was _soda_. It was a rare delicacy back in Three, but here, it was everywhere! Lemon-lime and original and blueberry and fizzy orange. I wanted to try them all.

A waiter walked over to our table and said in a Capitol accent, "What would you like, Miss Calamity and Mister Tyler?"

I rolled my eyes; the title seemed so strange. "Um..." My eyes scanned over the menu and I couldn't pick. "How about...how about mashed potatoes and gravy."

"Of course, and you, Mister Tyler?"

Tyler looked deeply disconcerted but managed to say, "Ah...the roast duck please."

"Would you two like anything else? How about refreshments?" he asked.

I looked over the menu at all the food, almost forgetting what he had said. How could I ever choose? So I just picked randomly: "Wine." I knew what that was, of course, but I'd never had it. The adults said it was good, though.

"But ma'am, are you sure?" he said, eyebrows raising. "There is an age limit to wine here."

"An _age_ limit?" I stared at him.

"Yes, Miss."

"Fine, I won't have it then. How about some fizzy orange soda? Does that have an age limit?"

He flushed red. "Oh, no, ma'am." He directed his attention to Tyler. "Mister, do you have a preference?"

The red-haired boy stuttered for a moment before choosing, "Original soda?"

"Okay. We will have your orders up in a minute," the waiter told us, then whisked away. I looked down at the shiny plate and metal utensils, feeling so awkward in this decorated place. I wished for a book, something that was at least somewhat similar to Three. Like on the train, maybe. I wondered how they had known I liked books.

While we were waiting, a boy joined us at the table. He was skinny, tall, and brown-eyed in that way that was awkwardly adorable. He grinned and said, "It's so great, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Tyler said warily.

"Skyrah ditched me for the Careers when they came back," he explained.

"She ditched you? Um...whenever was she actually your ally, pray tell?" I cut in.

He shook his head, forcing another smile. "She was a Career. I should've known. All her sweet talk was probably another way to, I dunno, earn my trust."

"So...why are you telling us this?" I said carefully.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" he said evenly. "Well, I'm Mica. District Five male, and judging by the look on your face when I say this, you did _not_ know."

I bristled. "What do you want?"

"Can I sit here for now? Then we'll get to the other stuff? The...questions," Mica replied, ducking his head.

"Hey, Mica, you want to be our ally?" Tyler piped up, eyes wide and searching. There was a clever glint in them that unsettled me, as if he saw far more than I did, which was enough, in my opinion. What else was there to see?

Then I realized what he had said and glared. "You are not becoming our ally!" I retorted. "We only just met!"

"It's always good to have more allies," Tyler said thoughtfully.

"What if he actually didn't get ditched by Skyrah? Think about it, they could be plotting our demise right now," I urged.

Tyler shook his head slowly. "No, I think he's telling the truth."

I leaned back against my chair, groaning. "Fine, if you guys want to be allies, so be it. I'll just be in the background until I fully trust him."

Mica's eager face fell but he still maintained a slight smile. "Oh, look, who's that?"

I turned around and saw the trainer coming toward us. Feline, I thought. What was she doing here? There was a reason she was the _trainer_.

She said curtly, "Tyler, would you like to join us in our..." She tipped her head to the side, eyes catlike and narrow. "Our job?"

He eyed them cautiously. "And what's that?"

She smiled, a wide, winning smile that looked so triumph you would've thought she had already won. Behind her, I realized there was Spruce from Seven and a girl I didn't recognize. I thought she was from Eleven or something.

Then Feline replied, "To torture Algar, of course."

 **9/11/2017 Also, so sorry if Calamity's POV is off! I wasn't looking at her personality when I did this cuz I wrote it off internet. Tell me if I'm wrong and I'll correct. I'm not too great at writing sassy characters, tbh.**


	22. Epic Escape

**Note- Muahahaha, torture, I'm so excited. xD Okay, okay, don't worry, I'm not going to kill him, that would just be against all rules of SYOTS.**

 ** _Elisabeth Bronzebrook (D11 Female)_**

As I walked down the hallway, I felt all my hopes crumble. Literally. I was going to have to torture someone! This was inhumane. I...I couldn't do it. Never.

The guy we had picked up, Tyler, was coming along behind us, his pace brisk and determined. I hoped he had some kind of plan to get us out of this mess. Why had I even agreed to this? I shouldn't have listened to her threats that if I didn't, I was "aligning myself with the guilty". Ugh!

Spruce was a few steps ahead, his eyes dark, no sign of emotion coming into them. I wondered where they had kept Algar. Hopefully not somewhere bad. It must've been an accident. He wouldn't have purposely attacked Mark..right?

"Tyler," I whispered urgently, needing to get the bitter words out of my mouth.

The redhead's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth silently, then closed it. Must've been thinking the same consequences as I was.

"What do you want?" he hissed suddenly, fists clenching.

My tongue went dry. I said quietly, "I...I."

"You know, if you're not going to say anything, then we might as well stay quiet," he said through his teeth, darting glances quickly up at Feline, who's back was turned.

"Why'd you agree?" I said in a rush. "Do you seriously want to torture Algar?" I clamped my mouth shut immediately, a hot pink fluttering across my cheeks.

"No, of course not," he snapped.

"So why'd you agree?" I prompted softly.

He stared at me for a second, eyes fiery intense, then dropped his gaze. His pace slowed for an instant as he wondered what exactly to say, then some kind of driving pressure overtook him and he glanced back up.

"You don't know the Capitol," he said through gritted teeth, eyes darting as if he didn't know how much he could reveal.

"And you do?" I blinked at him.

He grunted. "No, I don't. But I've heard too many things about them, and not much is good."

"If you think they're bad, why'd you help them?" I needled, and a look of pure anger fell over his face like a lightning bolt, illuminating it until he was deathly pale.

Then he shook his head, and all the fight drained from his body. "You wouldn't know," he muttered.

I gave up after that, content on just walking along. Of course, I didn't know why I myself had said yes, but partly it had, I confessed, been because I was scared. Scared, I thought now, was the worst explanation ever. But it was true. And I bet Spruce was thinking the same thing- or at least something along those lines. Tyler..I wasn't too sure about that.

Finally we came to a stop, and Feline turned around lithely, a mocking grin on her face. "We're here," she smiled. There was a set of heavy iron bars to bind the prisoner to his cell, and the floor was smooth cut stone. There was no sign of the Capitol at all here, no diamonds, no jewelry. It was so plain I almost thought we were back at Eleven.

But of course, there were some giveaways. For instance, the table in the back corner was studded with pearls, a notebook on it covered in glitter. A pencil- the fanciest I had ever seen- lay beside, adorned with golden wings.

"Jeez. So this is what they call a prison," Spruce remarked, his dark eyes staring around in the shadows. I had to agree. It was..an interesting prison, to say the least. I couldn't even catch any sign of Algar behind those bars.

Tyler did not speak, instead returning to clutching both hands tightly.

Feline trotted over to the table and threw open a drawer. I felt sick as she withdrew to allow us a clear view. Inside, there were three knives, all glinting sharp as if it had just been washed. "You know how to use these?" she purred, stroking the blade of one of them. It accidentally cut into the flesh of her finger and she hissed as a finger of blood trickled out.

"No, how would we?" Tyler asked cautiously. "If you've forgotten, we live in non-Career Districts."

She kept up her smile. "Oh, I know," she reassured him, looking anything but reassuring. Though she was beaming, there was a hint of a glare in her face, beneath all the thick makeup a flush of cheeks. The white powder of her face was stretched tensely taut.

"For you," she said, suddenly brisk. She handed Tyler a knife, and the redhead looked like he wanted to stab her in the face with it. Next she gave one to Spruce, who twisted it between his fingers mutely. Then, me.

I took the knife, my breath catching as my fingers naturally curled around the handle. Its blade was a brilliant reflection, a diamond that could draw blood. I was acutely aware that I could actually attempt to kill myself right then and there. Feline expected me to, by the way her eyes were trained on me and her feet set tensely.

But I didn't. I would never commit suicide. I had to at least try to win. For my sister, if anything.

I could just hear Rosie's voice in my head, and with those pleading words, my will hardened. I would win, no matter what. I had to try. I had to try.

"Go ahead," Feline said silkily. "Do what you want with the prisoner. I'll let him out." She twisted her hand to reveal a scanner. It beeped as it went in range of a camouflaged scanning system. I held my breath as the bars were dropped, and saw Algar.

He was a mess, for being in there only an hour or so- I hadn't really kept track of the time. The boy limped out, bite marks white on his ankle. The blood had dried but with no medical care, it lay crusted on his skin.

His hair hung like curtains across his face, hiding a pair of eyes. I wanted to pull back the curtains and see what this boy felt about his situation, but I didn't dare. There was absolutely no way, I just couldn't..

Algar's muscles were coiled just beneath his skin, extremely prominent unlike us three. He was wearing a simple gray shirt and matching gray pants, a pair of black shoes thrown carelessly on his feet that looked three sizes too big. He parted his hair and I could see a blank look in his eyes, as if he no longer cared about the world anymore. My heart twisted unexpectedly because of it.

"Elizabeth," Feline nodded to me quickly. "You're first."

I took my knife, shaking all the while. I could not do this! There was no way! I could not hurt a human being, especially for really no reason. I didn't care about the Careers and surely this was an accident so he wasn't even supposed to be here. This wasn't fair! Well, actually, maybe it was. But still! I could not do this!

I realized I had frozen right then and there and everyone was looking at me, so I gulped, raising my knife. Algar put up his hands in surrender, not even bothering to fight even though I knew he might win against the three of us combined.

I couldn't do this! Sweat trickled down my face and I wiped it away. Suddenly I was panting as if I had run a mile. The knife was just another weapon in the Games, and I was just another pawn. I viewed this from the outside, from previous knowledge, and knew that the Capitol was wrong. Even if I killed Algar and eliminated an enemy- putting me at a better chance of winning- I could not. I would not. The Capitol would not use me like this and I would never just kill a soul. Never, unless it was for a good reason. Accidents were no reason at all for death.

"Elisabeth," Feline said coldly. "Will you hurry?"

The next seconds passed by like a lightning bolt. Algar threw his hands down and charged for me. I dodged but her tackled me to the ground nonetheless and began throwing punches at me. It hurt so much! I wanted to scream as they landed on my skin, some of them breaking the flesh and pouring blood outright.

Apparently he was in better shape than I had thought. The pain was so harsh I wished I had just taken the opportunity earlier and killed him, however much the voice in my head argued he would never have let that happen- not without a fight.

And it looked like in this fight that he was winning.

"Algar," rumbled Feline, though a smile was beneath her voice as if she liked the fact that the prisoner was beating the executioner breathless.

Tyler stepped forward hesitantly and then thrust the knife into Algar's exposed bicep.

He howled and a nasty ripping sound filled the air. I winced, rolling out of the way as he clutched his arm, panting like a dog, streams of sweat running off his hair. He tried feebly to stop the bleeding but Tyler had done his job. Now Algar was more focused on saving himself than killing us.

I shot Tyler a tight look of gratitude. "Thanks," I whispered.

He grunted, "No problem. Just don't make me save you a second time."

"Okay," I promised. Hey, maybe Tyler wasn't so bad after all. I mean, he had just saved my life...

I looked at all the bruises Algar had showered over me and wanted to shrink into the ground and melt into the earth. They were blue-black against my usually pale skin, some throwing unusual shocks of pain occasionally. Others simply stung, nothing to worry about. But the ones that screamed of agony...

I said quietly to Feline, "Erm, are there any medical people or something?"

She glared at me. "Oh, no way. You will keep fighting until he has learned his lesson."

"B-but..." I was getting beaten by a strong personality...I couldn't let this happen...

"Shut up and fight!" she snarled, brandishing a new knife out of thin air. "Or I swear I will kill you!"

Now I was faced with the choice- would I kill someone or be killed myself? A selfish streak rolled over me and I held the knife. This was not my time to die, not now in this terrible mess. I would survive until at least the Bloodbath.

Spruce was still just watching, his knife pinned against his leg. He was silent for a while longer and I wondered if he'd face the same punishment as me.

What I wasn't expecting was for him to send the knife straight for Feline.

While her back was turned, she couldn't see, so the knife was definitely a surprise. _I_ was definitely surprised. Tyler- not heroic, smart Tyler who knew which situations he could get in but disappear without trouble and which situations could get him into hot water and Spruce- who I hadn't been able to tell much of but that he was a bit exhausted and moody saving the day? What was this? This "battle" had demanded the most out of all of us. I blushed as I thought _except me_. I was the only one who hadn't saved the day. Instead, I had gotten beaten up.

"Come on. Let's go," urged Tyler, not bothering to look behind him as we darted out of the room. We escaped down the long hallway and went back to the lunch room, all sweaty. Spruce didn't say much but even he looked a bit shocked out of his disinterest.

Spruce noted darkly at one point, "That was some battle," and I agreed fervently. I had never gotten into much of a conflict before and this one had sent my heart racing like it had never done before. Adrenaline was pounding in my veins and I felt like I could run miles on end before getting tired. A whirlwind was raging inside me and my need to let it out startled me. This was not about loyalty- this was just about opinions, rights and wrongs and the Districts against the Capitol. We could...we could spark a rebellion! How we had just defeated those two- we could do anything if we wanted it. If we had the courage and strength.

I sat back at my table with a couple girls who had been chatting. I had shyly just sat there and ordered my food, not really knowing how I could pipe up in the conversation. I was introverted, sure, but that didn't mean I was plain quiet. The events just before had proven that.

One of the girls, someone called Twyla who had dark hair that was unnaturally red at the bottom(how was that possible?!) said loudly, "Hey, maybe we should actually _try to include Elizabeth in our conversation_?"

Harriet, the girl from Six with long hair and a sweet aura, glanced at me and brightened. "Oh, yes!" she said invitingly. "Like, for instance, what just happened?"

The other girls joined in and I could sense their enthusiasm, but still, I felt that if Twyla had not said those first words, they would've gladly went on with their conversation without a glance at me, and I felt grateful to her for that. _Maybe we could be allies or something..._

"So, Elisabeth. Tell us!" the girl from Eight exclaimed. I had forgotten her name but she had seemed pretty decent to me. Cheerful, bubbly, optimism... that was exactly what I needed to get out of all my dark, sometimes doubtful thoughts.

"Well," I recounted, "it's kind of a long story.." My voice was soft as it usually was when speaking to utter strangers. "You see, we were just sent to go kill Algar. You know, that guy who always gets into trouble? Yes, him. Well, he was held in this prison and Feline let him out so we could kill him.

"She said I could go first and so I kind of hesitated and that was when he tackled me. That was where all those bruises came from." For once the words were coming out easily, and I let them go eagerly, wanting to put the burden on someone else and see how they handled it.

"That's terrible!" said Harriet sympathetically. "I wish I had been there to help."

I went on with the story and they listened, offering all the correct remarks. I couldn't help thinking that Twyla would be an amazing ally, even though I knew she was probably too popular for someone like me. I mean, she had all these girls right here who could be a better ally than me! I wasn't so sure I would help her or anything. I would be too dependent..

"Tell us about yourself," Twyla encouraged, her eyes glowing fiercely. I looked at her many scars and my story came tumbling out.

I told her everything. I told her about my stepmom, how she treated me terribly and how my dad blamed me for my mom's death. Twyla's eyes widened and understanding went into her gaze. I noticed all her scars and I asked her, "Where'd those come from?"

From the start, we were destined to be allies. I just knew it.

 **9/15/2017**


	23. Six Times Nine Equals Fifty Four

**Note- Omg I feel so guilty. xD Sorry, I had a giant case of writer's block this week, plus I started doing tennis so it took up some weekend time. I also got into Chamber Orchestra so now I have practice in the mornings and if I get into DI it'll be even more chaotic. I'm sorry guys. xP I'll try to pre-write whenever I stop procrastinating..anyway I hope you liked the chapter, thank you and have a great day. c: Also, if anyone wants to check out my slime Instagram account, it's "crystalslimeezz"! shameless advertising lol. xD**

 _ **Harriet** **Wilson** **(D6 Female)**_

I got up the next morning, relaxed, fresh- well, you get the idea. The Capitol bedroom was so spacious! It was amazing. Surely the Capitol wasn't that bad, if they offered such good things to us and were so charitable?

I put on the training outfit draped against my bed. It was a bit uncomfortable- what with all the tight, itchy material- but I could manage for another day or two. I reminded myself that I had to make these days count, for my evaluation was coming up.

As I stepped into the dining room-of-sorts, I noticed that the lights seemed to shine a bit brighter, and the whole atmosphere was cheery. Huh. That was interesting.

Cameron sat across from the table, already finished with a plate of ham and starting on another. I pulled up a chair and asked for the same thing. They were so nice to do this! I thought(a bit gushingly).

The food was delicious, like everything else at the Capitol. It tasted of salt and a bit of spice, mixed in with some kind of sauce. Content with that plate, I went on to have another...and another.. until I was full.

Very full.

I didn't even think I could go to Training but I forced myself to stagger up and walk with the others. We were slightly late and most of the other tributes were already there. A couple of the girls I had sat with yesterday were there and I eagerly talked with them until Feline called for our attention.

Zahava whispered brightly in my ear, "I can't wait!" and I smiled back. She was such an enthusiastic person I felt much better being in her presence. I almost forgot the heavy weight of the Games that lay on my shoulders.

Feline gave the same speech as yesterday. Physical contact was allowed but no injuries(she said this with a smug look), no food or drinks, that kind of thing. When she was done, the tributes began scattering, and Zahava asked, "What do you want to do today?"

I thought for a moment. "What about the knot-tying station? It doesn't look too popular so we'll be able to learn at least something from it."

She followed my glance and nodded fervently. "Good idea," she remarked. We headed over there and I realized that the reason why there was not a lot of people there was because it was a very small station. It was kind of cramped between the archery and the wrestling, so that everyone's gaze just passed over it every time.

"Are you any good at tying knots?" she asked curiously, before launching into her answer, "I'm not, that's for sure!"

I smiled sheepishly. "Me neither. But we could learn."

She shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"

I grabbed a piece of white yarn between my hands, wondering how exactly it would be useful for tying knots- all I could get out of it was that it was flimsy and looked easy to break. The man at the station said brightly, "Girls, how may I help you?"

I glanced down at the yarn. "Could you please show us how to tie knots? We're, er, kind of new at this."

"Of course." He took a piece of yarn and deftly did a few knots into it so that suddenly there was an intricate design instead of just plain string. Intrigued, I leaned forward, as did Zahava. He demonstrated a couple more times before adding, "Here, you try."

I looped the yarn around my finger like he had done and tried tucking it into the circle but it just came away ruffled. He shook his head. "Not like that."

He showed us again and gradually we began to get it. My spirits were lifting as I performed one of the tricks he had showed us and Zahava applauded. "Nice!" she complimented.

I smiled, my cheeks setting on fire. "You too." I gazed down at my knot in pride, not knowing how I could feel so emotional about a simple piece of yarn. _This could really help us in the arena, since nobody ever bothers to even check out this place. We'll have an advantage in this place, at least._

Zahava seemed to read my mind and she whispered, "You know, I hope this place stays as unpopular as it is now."

I nodded. "This would give us an excellent advantage. I mean, we could use this for lots of things. Nets, fishing lines..," I listed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't get too ahead of yourself." Zahava grinned. "I mean, it's smart to think ahead, but we have to get this done first."

"Aren't I already done?" I looked down at my limp piece of string.

"Not yet," the man chimed in.

I groaned, my pride evaporating in that moment. I guess I had really thought I had achieved something, and my heart was looking desperately through every little accomplishment to try to find something to be positive about.

"Could you please show us another design?" I asked, his kindness warming me nonetheless.

"I could," he said swiftly and continued on. He piqued my interest for the whole time as his hands winded string through string and braids, swirls, even little shapes began to form. I caught my breath, finding myself wanting to do the same. I vowed I would try my hardest to learn. _And practice_ , I reminded myself.

Zahava stared at hers forlornly. "How do you do it again?" she asked quietly.

I patiently helped her through it, not caring if I might be helping a future enemy, just focused on giving help when others needed it. This was what I was supposed to do. Be myself, not be someone changed just because the Games. The Games did not deserve my change. I would be exactly like myself all the way to the end.

Zahava beamed proudly at her knot. "Thanks, Harriet," she thanked gratefully.

"No problem at all," I smiled, my heart swelling with a sort of kinship. "Uhm, Zahava, could I ask you something.."

She looked up, startled. "How...what...you're not saying..." Her eyes widened.

"You want to be allies?"

She smiled somewhat nervously and shook my hand. "Allies," she murmured, still disbelieving. "I like the sound of that."

* * *

 _ **Cornell Wheaton (D9 Male)**_

I had already gotten an alliance agreement from Cameron- that was as far as I knew. The rest..I wasn't so sure.

Cameron told me not to worry about it. He said he was going to try to get his District partner on our side and hopefully mine as well. At the rate we were going, maybe we had a chance. My hopes rose every time my thoughts landed on that.

I joked awkwardly alongside Cameron, who scanned the crowd. He stopped, turned his heels. "They're over there. Knot-tying station. We'll try to get that alliance I was talking about."

I nodded and shut up, eager to get some more allies. Allies meant protection to me, and I felt like the more we had, the safer we would be.

Cameron slowly headed on over to them, trying not to seem suspicious. I copied, though I wasn't too sure how that was supposed to look like. Soon we were at the station and I let Cameron do his thing. "Hello, ladies," he said smoothly as a well-oiled knife.

Harriet glanced at him while Zahava looked at us sideways. "Are you allies now?" Harriet chimed in.

I nodded for confirmation. "Yeah, we are."

Zahava blinked slightly. "Wow. Stuff here is fast, then. I wouldn't have thought it possible in Nine." In the past few days, I had found Zahava to be bright and all- which was good. But then there was the side that narrowed in to naive, acting the role of a child even now and then.

I smiled instead and said, "Well, you know, there is the saying 'Everything's possible'."

She let out an easy laugh. "Yeah, I suppose so."

Cameron cleared his throat and shot me a look. I folded my arms, a bit annoyed at him. I mean...it wasn't that I was jealous or anything. It was just that he sometimes got on my nerves- he was just so...great with the girls. I didn't know how else to describe it, except unsettling.

Outwardly I expressed jokes same as always, and Cameron remained happily content. The two of us were an interesting pair but one to be expected; after all, we both had similar personalities unless Cameron was faking. Although I wasn't one to wink at girls and flatter them. No...I would leave that to Cameron.

"I wanted to ask you two..." Cameron began calmly, "..would you like to be allies with us? You know, a bigger group, more access to supplies, and a stronger defense. We could share skills with each other."

"We could," Harriet murmured thoughtfully. She eyed Zahava. "What do you think?"

The black-haired girl mused over this with sparkling eyes. "I say yes!" she said eagerly. "I mean, allies are always great...right?"

I flashed her a slight grin. "Of course they are." I avoided the fact that the more allies you had, the less we would notice if someone sneaked away from the group- and we would become a bigger target. But these troubles only lasted a millisecond before I was pulled away on the happy tide that was Zahava.

It was settled, then. District Six and District Nine...a formidable group. I knew a little something about crops and grains and all that, so if we landed anywhere close, I could help. And Six was all about transportation..maybe they could fashion us something from their knowledge in that area.

"This is perfect!" whispered Cameron into my ear.

I nodded fervently. "We're getting allies and slowly becoming one group. We can train together from now on, teach each other some stuff. It'll totally work out."

He tilted his head. "And you could teach us some magic tricks."

I grinned. "I could."

We went to the knife-throwing station after that, just to see how Cameron could do because the twelve-year-old was pretty confident. I was starting to get used to his calmness by now, his utter lack of doubt in any situation. His happy personality was nice to have and, coupled with Zahava, we were a pretty enthusiastic group. Harriet's kindness was beginning to feel surreal as she leaped at every chance she could to give us tips. And me..I wasn't too sure. I was just a jokester, being my usual funny person. I hadn't changed for anything.

The targets were layered red-and-black. It looked really cool against the dark walls, the red popping out almost like...like blood. I flinched when my mind came to that.

A selection of knives were set on a stand for us to choose. There were labels underneath for the amount of skill required to handle each one, and to my amazement, Cameron picked one from the hardest rank.

I stared. "Wait..you can really use that?"

"Of course I can." A thin innocent smile twitched across his lips. "What, you thought I couldn't?" He pretended to look offended. "Well, let me show you how it's done."

Within the next few minutes, he had landed three knives like darts onto the central circle. The trainer for this station's attention had whipped around to examine us, while Cameron's allies stared. He just seemed to innocent...how could he do something this deadly? I guess since I had thought him being a ladies man, he was totally soft and got scared at the first sign of blood.

Then again, he had been the twelve-year-old to volunteer. The first in history, probably. This must have been where his confidence lay.

Harriet kept handing him different knives while he threw from a number of spots. Once he did it from a long way away, so far my heart sank- if I were to try, I wasn't too sure I would make it. Unless I practiced of course. There was always the 'if'.

Cameron pulled it off quickly. He almost made it look easy as he tossed the knife casually into the center painted ring, its blade cutting through the wood. I glanced around me at the others practicing but they didn't seem as good. The Careers were somewhere else and all the rest were really just beginners.

"How'd you learn this?" Zahava asked faintly, her brown eyes boring into his.

He glanced at her and shook it off with an easy shrug. "Are you underestimating me just because I'm from Six?" he teased, and she turned a bit red. I knew he was just avoiding the question but I didn't know why.

"You have got to teach us," I piped up. My fingers twitched with the possibility that I might be able to throw as good as Cameron someday. With practice. Maybe I had that skill in the inside but I hadn't let it out yet...

"Sure," Cameron said, the smoothness returning to his voice. I soon forgot about it. What did it matter, as long as he had this amazing strength and was on our team?

 **9/23/17**


	24. Loners

_**A/N: DeadlyHuggles: Yes, I play the violin!**_

 _ **Amil Everret (D11 Male)**_

I wasn't getting an ally. That much was pretty obvious by the end of the second day. I was a bit annoyed but eh, it didn't matter. I could still win, ally or no ally. I knew it was different from my usually making-friends personality and all, but I wasn't so sure I could trust these people. They weren't the same as Eleven citizens.

I mainly practiced the plant game since I was good at it. It wouldn't hurt to get to know a bunch of plants so that I wouldn't eat anything poisonous. But...there was also the question of what I would do for offense. I chuckled when I thought about it- _charms_. That would do. And I wasn't so sure I wanted to touch one of those bloody swords.

I cursed as I accidentally bumped my finger against the wrong answer. These screens were so sensitive.

A girl walked by. I didn't exactly know her name- I thought it was Alice or something. But she was so pretty. She was like an angel and she was so short and small and cute- she was _awesome._ Man, I didn't think it was possible to swoon over a twelve-year-old.

"Hey," I said smoothly, stopping from my rapid tapping to look at her.

She turned around and said, "Oh! You're Amil, aren't you?" She smiled, and that one action brightened all her features like a lamp would a desk. Her eyes were put into the spotlight, her angelic face twinkling. I had the impression that she was one of those girls who strives to help everyone but has some venom of her own nonetheless.

"Yes, I am," I answered silkily. "And you?"

She blinked, "Alice."

Jeez, so she was hard to charm. I put on one of those smiles that every girl falls for, the kind that's crooked and awkward and makes a girl think your strong but also vulnerable at the same time. That you need help.

She faltered for a second, unable to keep looking, and I managed to not smirk as she said in a wavering tone, "Well, it was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again." With those words, she padded away.

I sighed, staring after her. She was just so unbelievably pretty. She wasn't like those rough, scraped girls who were always either grumpy or easily falling under my spell- she had strength underneath. Hard power coursing beneath the innocent surface.

"Falling for someone, aren't you? Hypocrite," the boy at the station beside me smirked. His name was Mark and he was just another annoyingly confident Career.

"Who said?" I stared him in the eyes evenly and he just mustered a cold laugh, turning away.

I did the plant game for a little while longer, my fingers flitting between keys, jabbing them down as poisonous or safe to eat. I was getting really good at this, I thought proudly, wiping a sheen of sweat off my forehead and sitting back for a rest.

It was then that the girl from Five, Twyla, tapped on my should. I spun around, light on feet, and saw that she was with my District partner. My eyes narrowed but I said nothing. Just waited for her to talk.

She said pleasantly, "Elizabeth is your District partner, isn't she?"

An eyebrow snapped up. "Why do you want to know?"

She bit her lower lip in frustration. "I just do, okay? Well, anyway, you have something of hers, do you?"

 _Oh_. That. She had asked me to keep her little strip of paper during Training, for whatever reason I didn't know. Her outfit hadn't had larger pockets like mine had(they were kind of just for decoration), so I guess she had just thought I could have it safe by the end of the day.

I felt the paper in my pocket and thought, _the worst thing that can happen is a girl hating on you._

But I did want to know what was in the paper that was so important. Maybe I could cautiously maneuver around this road...

"I lost it," I fibbed, the words almost sticking in my throat. I wasn't one to lie unless it had a really good reason, and I wasn't too sure this one passed.

"You _what_?" She stared at me like I was an alien. I looked calmly back, though my nerves were knotted tensely.

"I lost it," I repeated.

"I hate you," she muttered under her breath. I didn't even care that she had said that- now I knew this paper was valuable. What words could be so valuable they needed to be kept secret?

Wanting to cover all these previous mistakes up- Elizabeth was staring at me strangely with an odd light in her eyes, as if she knew the truth that I wasn't acting my usual charming self. "I love you too," I said quickly.

A rosy tinge started to come familiarly across her face and I almost smiled, but then, it was covered up by a blotchy anger. "You have the paper," she said sharply. "Give it to me now."

I shrugged. "Didn't you hear me? I don't have it."

"Yes you do," she hissed, shoulders shaking.

"No, seriously, I really don't," I tried with a normal voice.

"You do." She shot me a steely glare.

"I don't."

"You do."

"I really don't."

"You really do."

This was getting a bit repetitive and I could see she would not quit if it meant she was giving up on the paper. "Then fine- tell me what's on there and I'll give it to you."

She exchanged glances with Elizabeth, who looked deeply worried. "I don't know...," Twyla whispered. "If it means a lot to you..."

"If he doesn't give it back, he'll see it anyways," Elizabeth realized logically.

"So I guess we'll just tell him, if it's alright with you," Twyla said, her tough tone breaking into gentleness.

Elizabeth nodded slightly.

I was so eager to discover what was on the paper that I almost tore it apart to look at the words. They were written in dark, thick ink, the brush strokes impossibly even. It said, _Sunrise is a river of blood, crawling slowly into your ears._

* * *

 _ **Lace Riverworth (D8 Female)**_

I scowled at my District partner, Rowan. He was being such a nuisance. "Just tell me how in the earth you were able to use _that_."

I pointed to the weapon, crossing my arms defiantly, and his eyebrows drew down. "Do I have to?"

"You do."

"It's really none of your business," he grunted.

I folded my arms, jutting out my chin. I had known these kinds of people before, the kind that would never tell you a secret unless you made it clear to them you were in charge. I didn't really want to do this...but my rebellious spirit lurked at the fight-fight-fight range. Annnd, that was usually not so good.

"It is my business," I said calmly, patiently. The one thing you have to be when you want something from someone else is patient.

He huffed. "Why do you want to know, anyway? Getting a bit nosy, aren't you?"

I sneered. "Think that if you wish but _no_ , I'm not a nosy person. I guess you could call me _defiant_. Defiant in the reason that you are being extremely difficult and I'm determined to know what exactly you're hiding. And besides, I'm curious. How exactly did you find a sword in _Eight_?" My demand was made clear and there was a silence for a second as he looked into my eyes, an odd glimmer in their depths.

Finally he set his jaw. His expression was emotionless though his cheek twitched with the struggle. Fire contained beneath the surface...I sighed. I had not wanted to do this and my anger had gotten the better of me for a moment but this was something I needed to know.

I focused my thoughts on the rebellion and gradually calmed down. My fingers curled into fists and a glint of determination sparked in my eyes. I could do this. I would make a rebellion come alive, and maybe I would even be at the heart of it.

Rowan said in a soft, untouchable voice, "From the dumps of Eight."

I blinked at him. "Wait, so you seriously went rummaging in a garbage can."

He bristled, all means of calmness gone. "No," he said steadily. "I did not go rummaging in a garbage can. Rather, I was just going for a walk and found it. I practiced it every day, teaching myself until I gained these skills." He eyed me. "What have you been doing all these years, plotting a rebellion?" He seemed thoughtful at this.

Fire snapped in my gaze and I didn't hesitate to confirm, "Yes, yes I have been." It was the partial truth, after all.

"That's interesting," he mused, never looking away. Then he paused. "However interesting it is, let's just go back to practicing."

"Let's?" I stared a challenge at him. Could I beat him..? After all, he was the one with the skill at swords...the guy who'd volunteered...

Meh. If it came to that, I would go for it. I wasn't even thinking about consequences, about what had happened with Algar. All I knew was that my rage was taking my sanity away, my temper starting to turn electric blue, stretched completely taut.

"Let's. I want to see what you can do." He looked back calmly, all his anger gone in a flash.

I snarled, "I'm not with anyone. If you wanted to be my ally, you should've asked sooner. Because it's too late, I've already decided."

"You're not gonna have an ally?" A slender smile traced its way onto his face.

"Nope." I raised an eyebrow at him. "What d'ya say about that?" Oh, this felt so good. Revenge, even though it might be a deadly cost on my side. But I could do it alone. If I had the confidence, I could do anything.

"Did you know, Amil's going to be a lone green bean too," Rowan stated.

I tipped my head. "That's the saddest nickname ever."

"Yeah, what I'm saying. Being a loner is not cool," Rowan insisted. "If you want to be my ally, go right on ahead. I'm giving you this last chance, if you want to take it. If not, I'll go along my merry way and wish you the best of luck. What do you say?"

I thought and thought and thought until I felt like my brain was going to explode. My fingers twisted through each other, twining and intertwining like vines. I was going through all the positives and negatives of each choice.

If I picked to be his ally, and possibly others too, I would have to put up with all of them and support them at my expense. I'd seen countless times what trouble allies got into for allies, where they risked their life, jumped into the way of the knife, all that.

And I'd also have to put up with Rowan.

However, having allies meant they would do the same for me. They would risk their life, they would support me, and all that.

But there was also the question about trust. Could I trust Rowan? Trust was a hard thing because I didn't know him much and my heart wasn't that easy to take. My allies could easily betray me, and I could do the same to them. But a twitch of humanity gripped me and I knew I could never do that. I would never go to those ends and make a plot twist just to win those Games. _The Capitol will not change me. I will not be used. Never._

This left me vulnerable and Rowan knew it. He must see the same things I did, could possibly know what risks he was at to offer an alliance.

Then I went over the goods and bads of being alone.

Being alone, of course, meant that I would have to support myself and if I got sick or something, nobody would take care of me. Then again, I couldn't trust allies to do that either. But I could feel the strength rushing in my bones and I knew that would not happen, as long as I lived. I would not succumb to sickness.

On the plus side, being alone meant I was not at risk of betrayal, or have to support anyone else. I could trust only one person, and that was me. Me, myself, and I. I could not let my trust wander, and so I picked the only thing I could, because I knew deep down in my heart that I was the only person who I could ever hope for, ever dream for.

"Your request is denied."

It felt like a lifeline to say that. I would probably not have another chance like this again.

* * *

 **A/N: Omg writer's block JUST QUIT IT. Yawnnnn, I'm literally so tired right now, I slept late last night and had to get up early for Chamber. Also I've got to deal with grades. Cri.**

 **sept 27**


	25. Training Assessments

**Training Evaluation Conclusions**

NAME: Skyrah Labelle

DISTRICT: 1

ASSESSMENT: She demonstrated some close-range combat. I can tell she's good at it until we had one of our judges go against her. Then she hesitated. At least she's partially sane.

STRENGTHS: Obviously close range combat.

WEAKNESSES: Long range combat doesn't seem to be something she's good at. And she's not that confident. I thought she was gonna rip that judge in half without even a blink. Oh, well.

NOTES: She's different. That's kinda weird. Like, why has she got glasses? A bit nerdy, anyone?

* * *

NAME: Mark Seashire

DISTRICT: 1

ASSESSMENT: He showed us a bunch of different combat skills. I wonder how he would do in survival?

STRENGTHS: Like, everything. Combat, stamina, speed, strength, etc.

WEAKNESSES: Not sure he knows the necessary survival skills. Also he's annoying.

NOTES: Too confident for his own good. Typical Career.

* * *

NAME: Persefone Douglas

DISTRICT: 2

ASSESSMENT: She showed us her skill with daggers.

STRENGTHS: Smart, fast, strong.

WEAKNESSES: I can tell she doesn't trust in boys. Even though she never shows it and treats us equally, still.. there's something about her that gives me the feeling... Nevermind.

NOTES: Meh.

* * *

NAME: Felix Saunders

DISTRICT: 2

ASSESSMENT: He demonstrated the bow and arrow mostly, plus a bit of lifting weights.

STRENGTHS: The bow and arrow.

WEAKNESSES: Weak. He looks like the type of person to show sympathy to the younger and weaker tributes.

NOTES: There's something wrong with him but I can't place my finger on it..

* * *

NAME: Calamity Astrea

DISTRICT: 3

ASSESSMENT: Okay at knots and climbing.

STRENGTHS: Nimble, also looks like she's smart.

WEAKNESSES: Bad at weapons or strength.

NOTES: Typical 3...

* * *

NAME: Tyler Kaufman

DISTRICT: 3

ASSESSMENT: Building things. It was weird, but I guess that's what 3's officially good at.

STRENGTHS: Building, creativity.

WEAKNESSES: I cannot envision him taking the Victory Tour. Just saying.

NOTES: Where'd he get the hair dye?

* * *

NAME: Azurine Bahari

DISTRICT: 4

ASSESSMENT: She did a lot with the throwing knives and got them amazingly accurate.

STRENGTHS: Smart, good with weapons.

WEAKNESSES: She's so tiny.

NOTES: She was giving me the evil eye.

* * *

NAME: Algar Black

DISTRICT: 4

ASSESSMENT: He was kinda hesitant about it but once he got started, he couldn't stop. He showed us just a bunch of strength kind of stuff.

STRENGTHS: Physically strong, fighting instinct.

WEAKNESSES: Not a clue about plants.

NOTES: Isn't he the kid who always messes around and gets into trouble? I heard he even got himself imprisoned once...

* * *

NAME: Twyla Zahavyin

DISTRICT: 5

ASSESSMENT: She did some nature stuff.

STRENGTHS: She definitely knows what she's doing in the wild.

WEAKNESSES: Not sure how she's gonna defend herself, though..

NOTES: Her hair is pretty.. We should all make Twyla fan-dyed-hair or something. That would be cool.

* * *

NAME: Mica Mendel

DISTRICT: 5

ASSESSMENT: He showed us a bit about the circuits and took apart a TV, then put it back together.

STRENGTHS: Very dexterous, good with machines and circuits.

WEAKNESSES: How is taking apart a TV going to help to survive? I mean, I'm just saying. Plus, weapons don't seem to be something he's comfortable using.

NOTES: He fidgets a lot with stuff. Just saying.

* * *

NAME: Harriet Wilson

DISTRICT: 6

ASSESSMENT: She did a bit of knot-tying and was okay at it, and also some running.

STRENGTHS: Very small so that might help with hiding. She's also great at running.

WEAKNESSES: No weapon or survival skills whatsoever. I'm concerned for her..

NOTES: Aww, she's so sweet! I'm rooting for her.

* * *

NAME: Cameron Bordeaux

DISTRICT: 6

ASSESSMENT: Knife-throwing.

STRENGTHS: Knives of course! He could hit it perfectly.

WEAKNESSES: Looks kinda weak and like he can't stand it here and wants to go home..

NOTES: He's hot. I don't think it's legal to say a twelve-year-old is hot though. Especially cause he's a tribute.

* * *

NAME: Alea Bryce

DISTRICT: 7

ASSESSMENT: She did some things with the axe.

STRENGTHS: Axe.

WEAKNESSES: Her temper is gonna give her major problems later on..

NOTES: Got a temper, haven't you? Besides that... yawn.

* * *

NAME: Spruce Ashmark

DISTRICT: 7

ASSESSMENT: He just lifted weights.

STRENGTHS: Strength, endurance.

WEAKNESSES: Brooding and moody..

NOTES: This is getting extremely boring. Somebody hand me a cup of water.

* * *

NAME: Lace Riverworth

DISTRICT: 8

ASSESSMENT: She did some gymnastics.

STRENGTHS: Gymnastics!

WEAKNESSES: Her not caring at all attitude could get her in trouble, that's for sure.

NOTES: I don't know what to say about her except she looks offensive.

* * *

NAME: Rowan Loranger

DISTRICT: 8

ASSESSMENT: He did some snares and swordfighting, then a bit of archery though he wasn't too good at it. Also throwing knives.

STRENGTHS: Swordfighting, snares.

WEAKNESSES: Throwing knives, archery.

NOTES: Oh, so this is the volunteer... He's good at the sword. Is that possible?

* * *

NAME: Zahava Doita

DISTRICT: 9

ASSESSMENT: Knife, a bit of the plant game.

STRENGTHS: She's actually quite good at a knife.

WEAKNESSES: No knowledge of plants..

NOTES: She's so bright and cheerful and cute. Watching her die would be sad. I guess.

* * *

NAME: Cornell Wheaton

DISTRICT: 9

ASSESSMENT: He showed us him using the scythe.

STRENGTHS: Quite good at the scythe and physically strong. Also funny.

WEAKNESSES: No survival skills.

NOTES: His name's his District. And he's kinda funny.

* * *

NAME: Dahlia Rhodes

DISTRICT: 10

ASSESSMENT: She showed us some knot tying techniques.

STRENGTHS: Knot tying, physically strong. People skills.

WEAKNESSES: No survival or weapons knowledge as far as I can tell and bad temper.

NOTES: She's so nice(though a bit cocky too). And boring.

* * *

NAME: Murray Keyes

DISTRICT: 10

ASSESSMENT: He wasn't really doing anything... Good, I mean. That's why we listed a bunch of good and bad adjectives.

STRENGTHS: Resourceful, eager, resilient.

WEAKNESSES: Impatient, indecisive.

NOTES: He's too boring.

* * *

NAME: Elizabeth Bronzebrook

DISTRICT: 11

ASSESSMENT: She did some with the dagger and was so-so at it, then the second half she did the plant game.

STRENGTHS: Identifying plants, and it looks like she learned the dagger pretty quickly.

WEAKNESSES: Introverted, shy, not strong.

NOTES: I swear, if I see another boring tribute, I will cut this pig's head off.

* * *

NAME: Amil Everret

DISTRICT: 11

ASSESSMENT: He did the plant game a lot.

STRENGTHS: Skilled with plants, charming like heck.

WEAKNESSES: Weak, acts impulsively.

NOTES: Charming. At least he isn't too boring.

* * *

NAME: Alice Kimminger

DISTRICT: 12

ASSESSMENT: She ran on the running thingy and tried her hand at the axe(and failed).

STRENGTHS: Fast runner, good stamina.

WEAKNESSES: Bad at any weaponry.

NOTES: She's cute. But boring.

* * *

NAME: Jackson Winters

DISTRICT: 12

ASSESSMENT: He did quite a bit with the bow and arrows and got it on the bulls-eye most of the time.

STRENGTHS: Archery.

WEAKNESSES: Swordfighting, sensitive where his past is. We tried asking him about it and I could see he was uncomfortable.

NOTES: Finally we're done! Now hand me my paycheck.

 **10/6/17**

 **Somebody cheer me up. Please.**


	26. Score Revelation

_**Dahlia Rhodes (D10 Female)**_

I waited impatiently on the couch, the rest all around me. Murray was pacing to the left, with Unnamed person scowling.

I shrugged and closed my eyes. I was so nervous, I really wanted to get a good score. It would basically determine life or death- whether the Careers would go after me or not. That made me almost hope to get a bad score, just so I wouldn't be targeted. But if I got a good score, I would also have more people want to be my ally...which meant more people as protection against the Career pack.

I sighed, shaking my head. It was no use thinking all of this. I would find out sooner or later. Then I could worry.

The screen suddenly flashed on and I jolted forward, steadying myself with the side of the couch. My heart was beating fast and I felt like I could run a mile without getting tired. Then they started showing the Districts.

First was Mark Seashire. They had taken a great photo of him- right after a fight- and he was depicted with a number: 8. You could get 1-12 for a score- one was the worst of tributes, twelve the estimated victor. I scribbled the math down on a random piece of paper, that meant he had a 66.64 percent chance to become victor.

They showed him for about thirty seconds, then moved on to the next tribute: Skyrah Labelle. She was smiling widely, almost seeming not like a Career because of her friendliness. A number began rotating like a dizzy tornado and then stopped. She got a 9, which surprised me because I hadn't thought her that aggressive when we were training. Maybe I had underestimated her.

Afterward, Two. The male, Felix Saunders, got a 9 as well, which made me think that perhaps Mark had just acted super confident to put everyone else on edge and maybe he wasn't as good as I had thought. Felix was pretty normal and sane, a simple smile across his face.

Persefone was next. She got a ten, which was the highest so far, but it wasn't like I had thought otherwise. The girl was tall and muscular, and very determined as well. It was kind of to be expected, in a way.

Then there was Three. Tyler, who looked kind of anxious in his grin, was kind of blurry to me. I had no idea what was expected of him, though I kinda got the feeling he might get something low. Surprisingly, however, he got a 7, which was a 58.31 chance of winning. Not bad, I thought, impressed. I wondered what he had done to get this score.

Calamity, the girl from Three, got a 6. Wow, apparently Three was doing pretty good this year. I thought since they were all about technology and all that, they wouldn't really be so great in this natural kind of thing, but they were nailing it. 6 and 7 were pretty good numbers.

Four I was expecting high from, and I was not disappointed. Algar made a nine like Persefone and Skyrah, which I presumed was from his ability to withstand all that torturing. His picture showed him worn out and panting, a fire in his eyes. He had only been tortured for a few hours, but the scratches on his arms and the blood literally indicated more that.

Azurine got the lowest score out of the Careers, a 7, the same as Tyler. Her eyebrows were down defiantly in the picture, as if she had already known she would get the lower of the grades. I figured maybe she was, like, better with brains than physically fighting. That assumption went to Tyler as well; either way, I couldn't imagine the redhead fighting.

Five began with Mica. His awkward grin lit up on the screen a 5, the lowest so far. I bit my lip, nerves crashing against each other and forming a big dark wave. I swallowed the onslaught of dread and wiped my sweaty palms together. Surely I couldn't get something so bad as Mica. But then again, I didn't want to be targeted..

Oh, why was the world so complicated?!

I barely paid attention to all the rest. Twyla got a 4, yadda yadda, moving on to Six..

I tuned out, the only thing I heard the hammering of my heart against my chest. I was so nervous, my fists were clenched, my breathing came ragged. I began praying, closing my eyes and not even paying attention to the TV, though the sounds still entered faintly into my numb ears.

Cameron an 11, woah..

Harriet a 3..well that was bad.

Then there was District Seven. I was barely paying attention, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the brilliant flash of an eight appear, complete with dramatic thunder strike sound effects. Spruce's face popped up, an image of him folding his arms and looking serious.

Alea wielded an axe in her picture, her short blonde hair looking almost red, green eyes standing out like two miniature flames. She got a seven.

District Eight included Rowan, who had his sword, and Lace, a determined, dangerously rebellious look on her face. Rowan's number was an eight, which was kind of not surprising because I had seen him practice and he was pretty good. Lace got a three, the same score as Harriet, likely because of her not caring at all attitude.

I felt an unexpected flinch of sympathy for her- it couldn't have been easy going down with all her secret plans when she was being hurt by it at the same time. Then again, they weren't very secret; about the whole world knew how much Lace's fire could grow. And it wasn't the same as Alea's fire at all.

Nine, the wheat District, was next. First came Cornell Wheaton(coincidence?). I didn't really know him all too well except that his parade outfit had stunk and he looked like some kind of jokester, with that glint in the eye. He got a seven, from what I didn't know.

Zahava Doita, the thirteen-year-old girl with her dark hair styled in a pixie cut, ended up with a seven as a training score. I hadn't expected her to get so high; rather, I had thought she would get something like a three.

Then it was ten. I had almost forgotten and my pulse began racing once more. Murray anxiously stood next to me, too nervous to sit. I could feel the tension thick in the air, almost like some kind of smoke. My heart clenched and I prayed for my life. I felt like I was on my deathbed or something.

Murray was first, and for that I was grateful. I carefully sat back, not letting my tension get away from me just yet, and slowly took a deep breath in, let the nerves all out. The sweat was beginning to make my hands cold again and I shivered involuntarily.

I wasn't even in the mood to try to make shaky conversation, I was that nervous.

I sneaked a glance at Murray and could see his eyes were almost shut, squinting slightly, and his fingers made a clacking sound on the coffee table in front of us, the nervous beat sending me on edge. I almost wanted to tell him to stop so that I could worry in peace.

"Murray..," I whispered quietly. I needed to let all these words out or else I would go insane.

He put his finger across his lips and shot me an annoyed glance. His expression told me, _Save it, Dahlia! Not now!_

I hushed, but then the wave began gushing out of me. Words were the things I revolved around, something I prided myself on, something that kept my going and was my connection to society. Suddenly, something inside me snapped.

"Oh, Murray, I know how you feel," I began in a cracking voice, not knowing exactly where this was going.

He cringed but he didn't have the heart to say aloud, "Shut up."

"I know that it's terrible and that the Capitol is terrible and all this is terrible and we shouldn't be going through this ordeal at so young an age- I mean, half of us are kids, Murray! Kids! Who in the earth would ever have the evil to make this happen to _kids_?

"All my life, I feel like all the anger I've ever channeled has come from the Capitol, whether a long way or short. The Capitol, it's their fault. Don't think that the other kids are your enemies cause they're not. The Capitol is."

"Are you talking about rebellions? We really don't need an extra weight, Dahlia, thank you very much."

I snapped, "No, I'm not talking about rebellions. I'm just saying that we should not let the Capitol put this fear and these nerves into us. By letting ourselves feel that way, we're practically giving up to the Capitol. They want us to feel scared, they want us to regret what we did long ago. The whole reason they put these Games here is to demonstrate how much power they have against us, that they can take away our children like this.

"But they can't. Don't you see? We need to make a stand on this. Even if we don't see a rebellion in our lifetimes, inwardly, we can't let the Capitol ruin things for us. The Capitol wanted us to fear them and the Games, even hatred probably. And that is what I feel right now. But we can't make it a big deal, because we can't give up. If we do make it a big deal, then they'll think we're succumbing to the Capitol's rules.

"We have to pretend it's nothing. We have to think it's no big deal even if it is, because that's the only way the Capitol will get angered- if we don't fall to their plan with the Games. If they have the Games and we still don't respect their power properly, starting by not letting them get to us with the Games, we will have really sparked a fire in this rebellion.

"And I don't even think Lace cares."

Well that was a bad ending to that little speech of mine. But it was true.

Murray stared. "What's Lace got to do with anything?"

"Just giving an example," I stated quickly.

"..Oh." He was silent, his head cocked. Thinking.

"That's cool, I guess. What he said," he said with a slight shrug.

I almost let a smile cross my face before I realized we were kinda still in the middle of the announcements. I quickly turned back to see Murray's number fade away, the faint image of a 5.

Murray sarcastically yelled, "Yes! A _five_!"

"Yayyyyyyy." I rolled my eyes.

"Now let's see what you got." Murray seemed way less tense than before, even sitting down on the couch next to me. I scooted over to give him some space, glad he was better now but more nervous than ever. My teeth were literally chattering within my mouth, even though it wasn't cold.

All my memories starting from the day I saw my mom's eyes glazed with pride as a baby came back to me. My back straightened, my shoulders lifted. I remembered it all. The fire. Rebuilding afterwards. Dad. Mom. Dating Hudson. Unexpectedly, my eyes began watering up, but I refused to let them fall and told myself to be strong.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

And for the first time in my life, I actually allowed myself to think about the rebellion openly. All the mysteries of the world were now something I was eager to sift through.

I didn't even care about my number anymore. I just wanted to get this over with. It honestly didn't matter. It was just a number, anyway.

But still, it was important to me. That number still determined whether I lived or died, whether the Careers would target me or not, whether I would have sponsors.

I looked at the TV, my fingers interlaced together, my heart a heavy trot in my chest. I could feel the tension knotting up in Murray too, but it wasn't even a fourth the amount of mine. He had gotten his score, now it was time for mine.

My picture appeared on the screen of me smiling. I felt a squeezing feeling in my throat. I didn't think I could ever smile that way again, when I gained and lost so much tonight. Those tiny words of information formed a snake that went into one ear and did not leave the next. They filled my mind until I could do nothing but simply _look_.

The snake of information looped into a circle, then coiled downward, then met the open string at the other side. _Tying up the loose ends._

I leaned forward in anticipation. I was not disappointed.

 _Eight._

 **A/N: Enjoyyyyyyy y'all**

 **QOTD: Any thoughts on tomorrow(or today)? (Friday the Thirteenth?)**

 **Oml I feel like this chapter looks so short. Eh, oh well.**

 **Keep on smiling! :DDD**

 **(cheesy smile)**

 **10/12/2017**


	27. Interviews

**Caesar Flickerman**

"Welcome! Welcome, everybody!" I shouted as loud as I could. A roar of cheers blasted out around me and I grinned widely. The interviews- the night before the Games- was my favorite day of the year. I got to interview all the tributes, and it was more exciting than anything else in my otherwise monotone career.

"Who's excited for the _36th Annual Hunger Games_?" This was one of my signature lines so I made sure to include it as I addressed the crowd. As expected, they broke out into a volley of screams, stomping their feet and clapping their hands wildly.

"I know I am," I said, beaming. "Now, I know everyone's excited for the tributes...so let's give a warm welcome to District One, Skyrah Labelle and Mark Seashire!"

They walked onto the stage together, rocking new stylish outfits. Skyrah was wearing a sparkling orange dress that really made her soft brown eyes stand out. It looked like she had difficulty walking in those sparkly heels but they really completed her outfit.

Mark was wearing a black suit with a bright pink tie that really stood out. An outgoing smile was plastered to his face but I doubted it was real. None of this was real- it was all an act to get more sponsors. Not that I cared much. I just went along with the show.

I smiled at them, cleared my throat, and said once they were settled, "So, Mark, Skyrah, you must be quite pleased with your training scores, I presume?"

Skyrah nodded politely while Mark said confidently, "Of course."

They were playing their part rather well.

"Tell me, does being in District One affect much of what you do...or do you make your decisions purely based on yourself?" Random question I had came up with earlier, but it worked efficiently; the two started thinking as quick as they could.

Skyrah finished pondering quicker than Mark and said in a soft tone, "I think it's both. Being in District One really affects me- I keep thinking about the consequences if I don't come back home and all the expectations. But also...well, I like to do things my own way, I guess you could call it. If it ends up better and for the good of everyone, that would be perhaps the most legitimate answer."

"Both! Why, that's an interesting answer. And your magnificent use of words, oh my! Well, I wish you luck, Skyrah, in the Games. I hope to see your excellent mind next time of the interviews."

She gave a friendly smile, almost cracking her royal exterior, and I turned to Mark. "Mr. Seashire, do you have anything to add?"

He nodded fervently. "Yeah, well, I personally think humans are born to be selfish, don't you? I mean, in the Games, not all the allies win. They have to survive by themselves, however much they think they can trust one another. My choices are mostly my own, to narrow it down to that." He shot a dashing grin that the audience screamed about.

They left and I welcomed the next tributes, who came individually. No surprise, though. One was usually the only District of tributes to come together, probably to make it more memorable.

Felix wore a white tuxedo while Persefone rocked a silver sequined dress she looked very uncomfortable in. They played the part of the Careers well.

District Three was about two inches less interesting. I made sure to compliment their outfits(a black shirt with rainbow zigzag lines and a deep royal-purple dress). Tyler played the role of someone optimistic and funny, while Calamity contrasted that with sarcasm and sassiness. Overall, their mentors did a pretty good job and I had to give them that. Their personalities really stood out.

Four I expected high from, and I was right. Azurine came onto the stage wearing a shimmery blue dress that made her pale eyes really stand out. A seashell clip was pinned to her dark hair. All her answers conveyed a little mystery to them to make me- and the audience- want to learn more. I sighed, welcoming the next tribute.

Algar seemed like he was made of stone as he talked. There was literally no emotion in his voice, as if it had been drained out, and all the remained was a stiff loyalty. He wore a navy blue, almost black, suit with a tangerine tie.

District Five was way better than average this year. They probably changed stylists or something. The girl, Twyla, had on a black dress that faded to red, matching her unnaturally colored hair. Red heels were on her feet.

She played the part of someone who was secretive and tried to answer all my questions in a way that did not reveal much. I helped her partly, giving her questions that would be easy to weave around. I could tell the audience was getting interesting; they were all leaning forward, straining to hear what the girl had to say.

Meanwhile, the boy, Mica, seemed like some kind of joke. He was one of the younger tributes, a fourteen year old, and his interview role was to act like some kind of comedian. Though there was depth to what he said, they didn't reach farther than making sure he wasn't labeled a fool. A soft determined air was over him but barely noticeable, and I doubted the congregation could tell.

He cracked a bunch of jokes that sent the audience into gales of laughter. It was a pretty good role, to say the least. And he seemed to mean what he said, too.

The tributes from District Six were both barely teenagers. Harriet was thirteen but looked way younger. She had straight black hair and smoldering amber eyes that glowed next to her pale skin. Her outfit was a red velvet dress which she seemed to love and high heels. She tried to look brave and optimistic but it kind of failed.

Cameron was interesting because he was only twelve- and a volunteer at that. I always liked to see how the more younger tributes handled this kind of thing. It made me feel weirdly sympathetic.

Anyway, Cameron acted mostly happy and silly, telling some jokes like Mica had. On the interior, though, he seemed really truly sad, despite the friendly exterior. The girls seemed to like him and gushed over his black suit with the "cute little red bow tie!"

District Seven: Alea Bryce and Spruce Ashmark. Alea had short blonde hair and a slim build, looking great in an emerald dress with a denim jacket over the top. Those two colors really clashed but made her look extremely bold as well.

Everything she said was heavily and carefully lined with sarcasm. I could tell she was only adding on to her usual personality and that this role was not unfamiliar at all to her. Her blunt honesty brought chuckles among the audience, especially when she insulted the other tributes.

"You know that boy, that Algar?" she said, a slight smirk crossing her face.

I nodded and pretended to look thoughtful. "Yes, what about him?"

"Well, he got himself kidnapped, that's what," she said calmly. "I thought you knew?"

"Of course I did, I was just testing you," I said with a practiced laugh. She did not smile in return, just grunted.

Spruce was tall and lean in the way only District Seven tributes could be. He had sea blue eyes and streaked blonde hair, dressed in a dark green tux. He was confident and serious. I kinda liked him.

"So, Spruce," I began easily, "anything you would like to tell us about yourself?"

Spruce hesitated, then dove in quickly. "I have a sister," he said unexpectedly. "Her name is Sprig and I- I tell her stories."

"Cute," I managed to say. I didn't really like children. Why did people fuss over them so much? They were so helpless and incompetent and got in the way so much. Still, I listened because I would totally get fired if I was unsympathetic.

"Yeah," he nodded, a passionate flash in his eyes. He seemed to have abandoned his seriousness and was now full-on protective of his sister, even if she wasn't here. "And, well, I'd like to tell her something."

"Go right at it," I put my hands up and that was all he needed to keep talking.

"Sprig-" He swallowed and started again. "Sprig, I wanted to tell you that I love you. You are the best sister anyone could ever have and- and-" He swallowed again. "If I don't come out of here alive, I would like you to know that I will always be with you, wherever you go." He didn't cry but it seemed like he would. Still, he held strong, every feature struggling.

"Sprig, thank you. Thank you for everything."

I, too, got choked up for some reason and I let myself cry to make the audience go wild.

It was hard to move on after this conversation but I forced myself to pay attention even though reality had struck bitterly. Lace went afterwards. She had on a pink dress with an open back and played everything off as a joke. It was like she didn't care at all. She was almost admirable.

Rowan Loranger almost seemed like he was a Career with his confident, indifferent attitude. I questioned him things that went into his personal space- and for a reason too!- and he just replied calmly. I had never seen a tribute from an outer District act so unafraid.

Zahava Doita was next, and she pretty much badmouthed the whole lot of the tributes.

"So, Zahava, what do you think about your fellow competition?" I asked.

She grinned. "Well, for starters, the Careers need some help. They're so cruel! Like seriously, what has happened to them?

"And second," she continued, "Twyla's one weird girl. What happened to her hair, anyway? And as for Three, Tyler is clueless. Then Six. Cameron's got some major issues with his sanity. And Harriet? She'd be better off being allies with animals than humans."

She kept on going like this until I questioned her own sanity. I didn't know tributes would really go to these ends to win. Soon, she made everyone look bad except herself. The audience was screaming for more of her "gossip".

Cornell Wheaton, who had the funniest name ever, and had a funny personality too. He brought a whole bunch of cards and other things and did magic tricks with them. It was like he ran the whole thing- I quickly had to remind him I was the one in charge.

Then he got serious at the end, when there was about thirty seconds left. He explained, "You see, Caesar, the real reason I want to win is because...well, I want to pay for my dad's treatment. He's very sick and- and I'm not ready for him to go. Not yet."

Dahlia Rhodes was very eager and talkative. She acted extremely, almost over the edge patriotic, and expressed the importance of her family and everything well. "This country is the most beloved thing which has ever come across my eyes!" she declared, "and I'll make sure to breathe with it every second it gets older."

To make it less overly dramatic, she added some jokes. It was a great balance of character, that was for sure.

Murray Keyes. Seventeen years old, with black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin. His outfit was pretty simple- just a brown shirt and jeans. He was easy to talk to and I didn't even have to use a single one of my backup lines.

He was unexpected too, coming up with random strings of quotes out of nowhere so that I had to always shift my mind to match his.

District Eleven. I glanced at the timer and saw that we were down to two minutes. Trying to hurry up, I interviewed Elizabeth quickly. She had a Greek chiton and sandals on, hair weaved with lights. She seemed almost otherworldly, her words coupled with her outfit.

Amil Everret should've been labeled "the charmer". He was totally acting like it, at least. The girls swooned, though it was mostly at his charm and not at his outfit like Cameron's had been. Amil was about average in looks. He was skinny with eyes that had bags under them his stylist must have been trying hard to take away, to no avail.

One minute more...

Alice was determined and sweet, barely landing a spot in my mind before she too left. The Capitol wouldn't easily forget her though- she had complimented them plenty, picking random people in the crowd and gushing at them.

Jackson Winters had on a black cloak that covered his face mysteriously, with a red shirt, black cargo pants, and black boots. He spoke in a quiet, hushed voice so that they all had to lean in to hear him, and he would not reveal a thing about himself- he even attempted to answer my questions with a simple yes or no, with not even an explanation.

Three, two, one.

The timer sounded and it was all over. I sincerely wished all the tributes luck in the Games.

 **10/15/17**


	28. In and Out

_**Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)**_

When I woke up, I felt really, really tired. Every muscle was aching and I could barely get my eyes open. How was I even gonna get on a killing spree if I couldn't even stumble out of bed?

There was a neatly ironed outfit laid out on my bed and a suspicious part of me wondered who had even gotten three inches away from me while I was asleep. I shrugged it off- plenty of time to feel that way later- and took in the outfit.

It was crisp in the way that new clothes were, smelling like detergent. Fur lined the inside of the jacket, along with thick pants, socks, and tight-fitting boots. The shirt underneath was almost a sweater.

This gave me a major hint of where we would all be ending up. I was sure it had to be someplace freezing cold, and that made me a bit disconcerted because Four had always been hot. I had only experienced snow a couple times before, and not much of it.

I put on the clothes, feeling really hot indeed, and ate a quick breakfast, my stomach churning. Alright, I was nervous, I would admit that. I wanted a knife in my hand to make me feel safer.

I didn't speak to anyone and if I did, it would probably turn out wrong one way or another. All my wits had fled from me now and I struggled to re-obtain them. Swallowing, I, with the rest of my group, was shoved onto a helicopter, and we were off.

I paced around, palms sweating, fingers grasping at nothing, while Algar gazed at the ground darkly. I summoned the killer inside me and eventually it grew- sort of unwillingly, though. The urge to prove myself stoked the flame, and I watched it grow, doing nothing to try and stop it.

"Azurine." My head snapped up as my mentor spoke. "Good luck."

I bit my lip and nodded curtly.

It seemed like forever that we were encapsulated in this helicopter, its constant vibrating making me even more anxious. I just wanted to get this over with. Why must this all be so slow?

Finally the helicopter began to drop, and I steadied myself on the wall, my stomach flipping. I wasn't much of a fan of flying, that was for sure.

We walked out in single file and into a warm building. It made me incredibly sweaty, coupled with my jacket, and I considered taking it off for a second.

But no. I would not let myself feel even more vulnerable.

We padded along a skinny tunnel that led underground and had clear prints my boots sank into. The tunnel twisted and turned like a snake, trying to throw me off as we took different paths, once the second, another time to the left, then the right, right, right, left...

We were there.

I could tell because there were clear tubes that was just enough to fit a person. A couple holes were in the roof and a podium-like object was placed just below. I knew immediately that this was where I would be instructed to stand when the countdown began.

A man wearing a white coat that smelled bad took a tool with a needle tip and inserted it into my skin. It hurt but I was completely numb to the pain. I couldn't feel it anymore. I couldn't feel anything, not with the blood roaring in my ears. He did the same with Algar.

 _Tracker_ , I thought. That was the thing they would use to track us.

Before I knew it, I was being ushered onto one of the podium-like stools. I stood above everyone else, feeling high and mighty just for a second. Algar was right next to me, hands firmly clasped behind his back, brow creased. I stood tensely.

Slowly but surely, the podium began to rise. I imagined that somehow I would fall, but it did not happen- my boots grabbed at the ground and clung on to it for dear life. We went higher and higher, and suddenly a cold wind began to ruffle my hair. I zipped my jacket all the way up but it did nothing to help the relentless cold. My face was lashed at bitterly.

Algar found himself to the right of me, and he was already in escapist mode. One foot was planted before the other in a running pose. His face was filled with determination. Was he planning to run away from the tributes? I found it highly infuriating and promised myself that if I saw him trying to do such a thing, I would kill him if I had to. Not when he knew so much about us, no, he would not be alive, alone.

He must've seen me because he gritted his teeth. He didn't turn his head, but his eyes followed my glare. Clenching his fists, he fixed his gaze back ahead.

 _Ten..._

The sound came out of nowhere and I was startled for an instant. But I knew it was going to happen, sooner or later. I kept my face calm and composed.

 _Nine..._

I scanned the wide circle, the ring of tributes. I could recognize Zahava to my left, then Cornell, Persefone, and Jackson(Jax). To Algar's right, was Murray, Dahlia, Mark, and Mica.

 _Eight..._

I could squint across the circle, across the mound of supplies and the golden, shiny Cornucopia, the turn of Twyla's neck, her red hair spilling out across her back. Beside her was the distant shape of Tyler, his red hair quite obvious.

 _Seven..._

I looked around for any knives and found one pretty quickly. It was small and light and good for throwing.

 _Six..._

A tension flew through the air.

 _Five..._

I was dying, literally dying. Sweat was all over my otherwise neat hair. The cold was getting to my bones, making my teeth chatter. I sank into a running position.

 _Four..._

I wondered who the cameras were focused on now. Hopefully not me.

 _Three..._

I imagined everyone at home watching the TVs right now. Were they disappointed in me already? No, they couldn't be. I had tried so hard. I would prove myself now, to my terribly sexist parents.

 _Two..._

I realized there was only a couple seconds before lives would be thrown away, just like that. I hid my face to keep from feeling a stab of sympathy. I honestly didn't care about the other tributes that much, but this one percent of me hung on still.

 _One..._

Then I thought about Aden. Aden, my best friend, my ally and opponent in the academy. Who I loved, however much my fierce-tempered heart would not accept it. A cold rush of anger drove through my veins, stealing my breath away. I would win this for him. He had tried convincing me to volunteer, which was a bit exasperating but I still would not give up the hope. I might've thrown away the chance to be with him, just by meeting his wishes, but at least I could die with some pride.

 _Kaboom._

An explosion filled the air. The smell of ash crept under my nose.

But I was ready. Poised like a brilliant snake, I ran as soon as they ended the word zero.

* * *

 _ **Rowan Loranger (D8 Male)**_

I saw Lace, directly next to me, get blown to bits. It was definitely a bad start to my Games. Definitely enough to make some regular person feel sick. I smelled nauseating burnt flesh.

But I was not a regular person. I refused to be. I did not let myself get distracted like some of the other tributes, and instead, when the speaker sounded, I was totally ready. Only half the people took off, the rest were trying to see if Lace was dead or not. Wow, these people were seriously more concerned with someone else's life than their own. And I didn't mean I was heartless- just that they had to have at least some balance of priorities.

 _I need to go home._

Home. That was where I was meant to be. That was where I was meant to stay.

 _Home._ Such a wonderful word. I yearned for it now, even as I for the games to begin, so that I could secure my place as victor.

My eyes hardened. None of these other people deserved to be victor. Only me. A flicker of regret tortured me, but I quickly swatted it down. Nothing would stop me from surviving.

I clenched my fists as the numbers ticked down. Seconds until all our lives would be at risk.

All twenty-three of us, now that Lace was dead.

ZERO!

The sound was amazing. I dashed out onto the icy land, ignoring the cold. Nothing, nothing could stop me. I would do anything to survive.

This chant repeated itself inside my head as I vaulted over some dead tribute- I didn't know who though- and risked a glance behind. Just to make sure I was still humane and still cared for others' lives.

It was Zahava Doita.

I almost froze. I had known her a bit during training, and she had been that enthusiastic, cheerful, optimistic girl, the one who was always nice to everyone. I felt a pang of loss, just like that. The Games had only been going on for like five seconds and she was already dead.

I glanced behind her to surely where her killer was, at the same time identifying stab marks on her back. Elisabeth was panting from a few feet behind her, eyes widened in trembling fear. Her hands gripped two daggers, each covered in crimson blood. She was standing beside Twyla Zahavyin.

I almost forgot they were my allies.

I ignored the fact that they were standing in front of a dead tribute and greeted them cautiously. Twyla nodded stiffly and Elisabeth's eyes widened guiltily.

Twyla's eyes narrowed. "C'mon," she said with a flick of her fingers. "Get a weapon or two- we'll meet you...over there." She pointed to the thin line of trees a long run away.

I dipped my head and they took off, picking up various things from the ground as they went, Twyla especially seeming eager to get out of there. I looked for a sword and quickly found one. It had a sharp, broad blade, with a handle that curved to fit the shape of the wrist perfectly. Some guy hurtled toward me but I easily dodged out of the way, landing a kick to his stomach for good measure. Without seeing who it was, I followed the girls in the direction of the forest.

It took a long while and dehydration was beginning to take the place of what used to be energy. I stopped, panting, and sat on a log, wiping sweat off my forehead. I could see my allies a little ways ahead of me, tiny dots on the horizon, about three-fourths the way there.

I sighed, and got back up. My will to survive was overpowering, and if I didn't do anything, I would feel like I wasn't trying at all. Breaking into a jog again, I fought to preserve my strength as I ran toward the forest.

I ached for water so badly it felt like a monster might as well be on my tongue. I gasped in as much air as I could get but it wasn't enough- the run was too tiring. But I couldn't stop- not yet. I continued on, even when my muscles burned and my head began to droop. The sun started slipping down the sky, its once-powerful papaya-colored rays weakening. I felt exactly like the sun- getting weaker and weaker the longer the day passed.

I was now over three-fourths the way there, and I could see the trees clearly. It was a bare, scrawny forest, filled with trees covered in no leaves whatsoever, their branches easily tearing off and whacking other branches in all sorts of directions. There was a sense of disorder here, of misery in the wind howling and closeness in the way the trees made a maze.

I took my sword and cut off a piece of old, roughened bark from one of the trees scattered in the snow nearby. With that, I tried bending it, but the brittleness of the bark caused it to snap immediately. I sighed. I had been wanting to make some sort of holder for my sword so I wouldn't have to hold it all day.

That was to be expected, I supposed. The bark did look rather old- though everything was still worth a try.

I walked the rest of the way, too tired to run, fatigue turning every limb to stone and making me go slow as a snail. My feet felt like they couldn't take it any longer, and the sweat combined with the cold air around felt almost hot.

Finally, I made it. I had to drag myself there, but at least I could touch the trees of the forest, at least now I had some hope of surviving. I saw Twyla with her arms folded nearby, next to Elisabeth, who was sweating profusely.

Twyla covered her scratches involuntarily, then realized I still knew they were there and let her arms drop to her sides. She looked at me for a moment, sharp and bright and as if there was no tiredness at all in her muscles. Energy sparked from her, determination the coal of the flame. My will to survive powered on, but it was way less than the fire she carried.

Somehow, I had already adapted to the cold wintry land. With that long run, I had bound my spirit to this place and I felt I could never look at a hot summer the same way again.

"So," Twyla said slowly, "we better find someplace to retire for the night."

Elisabeth nodded beside her. I knew they were both alike in some ways- like how they had both had a stepmother who abused them. Now, I could see why they would've chosen to be allies. Knowing what one felt like must feel good in a time like this.

I raised my hand and suggested, "How about in a tree?"

"A tree?" Twyla looked up with contemplative eyes as Elisabeth shook her head.

"No, that wouldn't work," she said quietly, her gaze downcast. "The branches are too easy to snap. If we put the slightest bit of pressure on one, I bet we'll fall, plus also there are no leaves to keep us from being seen."

I tipped my head, thinking. "So where should we make camp, then?"

"I have an idea," Twyla put in doubtfully. "We could go..into the snow."

"Bury ourselves alive?" I raised my eyebrows, but she plunged on.

"No, not bury ourselves alive- you really know me, don't you?" she rolled her eyes sarcastically. "We could sleep against the roots of a tree, and since I managed to get a sleeping bag, that'll go on top of us. There will still be those little holes on top of the fabric to breathe through."

"That's way too obvious." Even Elisabeth expressed her doubt.

"We'll cover that in snow. It'll look just like another random lump of it," Twyla added.

"Will that be enough to cover the whole thing?" I inquired curiously.

"Hopefully. Let's give it a try." Twyla spread out the sleeping bag and grabbed a handful of snow from the ground. With that, she piled it on top. It wasn't the kind of snow that was sprinkly and thin- it was the hard, packed in, lumpy snow, which worked in our favor. It easily covered up the sleeping bag and made it look like just another shapeless lump.

"The sleeping bag will be enough insulation against the snow- hopefully," Twyla explained.

"That still doesn't solve the problem of breathing," I insisted. "It's not gonna work."

"Wait, let's try it first," Elisabeth piped up. She clambered between the folds of the sleeping bag and ducked in. A few seconds later, she popped her head back out. "If you left your head high enough, it creates a pocket of air!"

"That's great!" Twyla said enthusiastically, her eyes lightening. She asked, "Can we all fit in there?"

I cringed. "Wait, so _I_ have to be in there too. Excuse me, but I'm not gonna feel comfortable."

"Oh, relax! We're in the Hunger Games fighting for our lives and you're worried about feeling comfortable?!" Twyla exclaimed. When she put it like this, it did make a little sense. I caved in; the girls' intense stares was definitely not helping.

"Fine," I muttered.

Elisabeth smiled, "Great! Now we have a plan for tonight."

My spirits lifted slightly. It was good to know the feeling of victory when everything else was going so wrong. Well, it wasn't exactly victory...it was more like, relief. Relief that we had a plan at last, and that we had managed to agree despite our many differences.

Oblivious to us all, deep in the woods, leaves crunched beneath booted feet.

Someone was coming.

 **10/21/2017**

 **A/N: Prepare for a lot of deaths next chapter!**


	29. End Of Day One

**I CHANGED MY MIND GUYS- WHEN YOUR TRIBUTE DIES, YOU WILL NOT GET ANY EXTRA POINTS. SORRY, THANKS. :)**

* * *

 ** _Algar Black(D4 Male)_**

"Um, _Mark_!" I hissed into my ally's ear. "What do you think you're doing?!

He was fighting another tribute rather fiercely, and didn't even turn when I called his name. I rolled my eyes. He'd get himself killed if he kept this up sooner or later.

Mark grunted and turned towards me with flashing eyes. "Don't tell me what to do!" he spat, just as the other tribute(Cameron?) threw a knife into his back as he was busy scolding me.

Whoops.

Mark glared, his jaw clenching with hatred. He must've know it was too late for him. His eyes blazed angrily and he shouted, "This isn't the end, Algar! If you didn't know, there's still something called _heaven._ When you join me, I'll show you- I'll show _all_ of you!" He collapsed to the ground in a heap and didn't get back up again. Blood rose up and he choked, spitting mouthfuls of it onto the stained ground. I watched, transfixed, a little bit scared but mostly...in wonder. I hadn't expected Mark to die so early.

Cameron grunted roughly and with a sharp, jerking motion, he pulled the knife out of Mark's back. The Six tribute caught my gaze and held it for a frighteningly intense second, then walked off.

Without even knowing what I was doing, in a fit of anger, I grabbed his throat and threw him to the ground. He got back up, surprisingly unfazed, and simply nodded his head. Blinking in confusion, I let him go.

"Algar!" Persefone cried, temper flaring. "Why'd you let him go?"

I hissed between my teeth, "I don't know.."

"Over my dead body will you say 'I don't know'!" she glared. "We could've killed him right then and there, the formidable knife-throwing enemy he is- I mean, he got an _eleven_! We were gonna target him, remember? And why'd you freaking distract Mark from killing him too!"

"Well, I want to prove that we kill for reasons, okay!?" I retorted unexpectedly. "Stop proving we're heartless and all that!"

"I thought you didn't even care." Her eyes smoldered. "At least, that's how you act on the outside. At least I'm doing what we need to do to survive. Unlike you." She snapped. "Where'd Skyrah, Felix, and Azurine go?"

"Over there," I pointed to a group of them defending the Cornucopia.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she said as if it were obvious, and ran toward them, weapons in hand. I followed.

"Anybody challenge you guys yet?" I asked as we approached them.

Skyrah shook her head truthfully. "Nope, not yet."

"Good."

We stood there in silence for a second. Everything seemed kind of frozen, with tributes running around, fighting, killing- all the while, I was trapped in a strange atmosphere of just..thinking. It covered me like cobwebs, entered my ears and wrapped around my brain.

"Hey, dude, snap out of it," Persefone was tipping her head quizzically; the serious look, however, never left her mouth.

I stared, then seemed to lapse back into reality. I laughed awkwardly, waving my hand. "No big deal."

"If you insist." She shrugged, eyes widening.

A loooooooooong time passed. I kinda zoned out, to be honest with you. The rest struck defensive poses and hoped for the very best. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Felix and Persefone determinedly keeping watch, Skyrah twisting her weapon between her fingers, Azurine sighing rather impatiently, her dark eyebrows knitting a line across the top of her forehead. And Mark...Mark, yes, Mark was gone. Gone from this earth, to hopefully a better place.

"Algar?" Skyrah paused.

I glanced up, first at the sky involuntarily, then at her. The sky was now kinda my clock. Now, it was pitch-black and we could hardly see; the fighting had faded off and in burst a numbness like never before, growing deep into my bones and clutching on so that I could barely move.

Stiffly, I nodded up at her. "Hm?"

"Uh, I was just wondering...should we be making camp right now? Since it's cold and all...I feel like we should retire early."

I contemplated this, not wanting to budge from my now-comfortable spot in the snow in front of the Cornucopia. "Let's get all the supplies first this thing's got to offer," I said at last, rapping my knuckles against the impossibly smooth surface. It felt cold as ice. "Otherwise, what's the point of protecting it?"

She nodded in agreement and said to the rest of us, "What do you guys think?"

Persefone nodded thoughtfully. "I think that would be the wisest course of action. We'll probably get icicles as feet if we keep this up any longer. And besides, even if we're Careers, we've still got to sleep."

"True," Azurine offered. Felix gave a short nod. So far, the guy had been literally the only one I couldn't figure out.

So we began to make camp. Felix and Azurine picked the area clean of supplies, until they were literally struggling to move with all the things stuffed in backpacks: food, weapons, etc. Skyrah, Persefone, and I scouted out the best places to drop off everything in the meantime.

There was snow basically everywhere, so it was rather difficult. The wind had calmed somewhat, but it was still tossing my hair this way and that, making it hard to take steps, especially when we were pushing against it.

Finally Skyrah raised her hand and announced, "I found a cave!"

We all practically leaped towards it, and as my eyes were streaming of cold, I could make out the shapes of Felix and Azurine run as fast as they could to us, kicking up the snow. The cave was not big, and it took all our patience to simply fit in there, never mind sleep. I was wedged uncomfortably between Persefone and Azurine; there was absolutely no way I could go unconscious.

"You know, I think it's more likely to faint in here than sleep," Felix commented with a sigh.

I nodded vigorously, "Yeah, there's no way we could ever survive in here. I think I'm gonna suffocate." In the meantime, my mind had drifted to my sister, Olga. My heart clenched and I forced myself to stay strong.

"Moving on, then," Skyrah decided, though there was definitely some disappointment in her voice. We crowded out, all wanting to be the first to experience that fresh air again, however freezing it was. Stepping out of the cave, I noticed another one almost opposite to it on the other side of the curved mountain, and went over cautiously.

This one was larger, thank goodness, but also more exposed. It wasn't very hidden to the outside in how the cave mouth jutted into the air sharply, instead of being tucked in. Maybe we could pack it in with some snow or something.

I called to the others about the cave and they gathered beside me, examining it dubiously.

"It's...nice," Persefone blurted out bluntly, a glint in her green eyes. "We could fix it up a little to make it more hidden."

Skyrah nodded, peering into the cave. "And it's wider too. We'd have room to put all the supplies."

Felix agreed, "It's getting really dark too- we need to find somewhere fast. Who knows what animals are out there."

We all glanced at Azurine, who crossed her arms and scanned over the cave. "It's fine," she mustered at last. "But don't say I didn't warn you when some tribute finds us."

"Fine" was all we needed to throw our supplies down and stalk into the cave. Persefone looked a bit annoyed as she lit a match and walked inside- most likely at Azurine. A few minutes later, she came back, reporting, "Nothing threatening in there."

With the words that it was safe to go in, everyone's steps grew less tentative. I found a corner in the cave, a thick blanket, and closed my eyes, a sigh in my throat. I sincerely hoped the next day would be alright, and that, however much we were incompatible, we wouldn't lose another Career.

 _ **Murray Keyes (D10 Male)**_

 _Boom._

 _Boom._

 _Boom._

 _Boom._

The explosion of the cannons got my attention real fast. I tensed as smoke lifted into the air, a long way away, but still there. I wondered who had died and shuddered. Since it was too complicated to make out deaths earlier, they had done the cannons at the end of the day, after all the chaos.

Later, the images of the fallen tributes were projected into the sky. Dahlia noticed them first, pointing them out, and the rest of us quickly gazed up. The sky was clear with wreaths of stormy gray clouds, so different from back at home. Somehow, though, the images still showed.

The first picture was one of Mark, his eyes hard, looking undeniably smug. I jolted backwards. Mark?! How had he died? I had thought he would win or something..

Second, Harriet Wilson, from Six. A friendly grin was on her face, and I felt an unexpected twinge of sadness. She hadn't deserved to die, especially at so young. She had only been a child, barely a teenager- I mean, thirteen! Thirteen. That was...it was just evil, if anyone could think to harm someone so innocent.

So all the tributes in between Mark and Harriet had survived, I thought numbly. Kind of relieved, too.

Lace, the District Eight female, had on a not caring at all face. She had been the first to die, I remembered that. Blown up. I wondered if she had done it on purpose or if it were by accident. I guess I would never find out.

Zahava was next. I was kind of surprised there weren't a lot of tributes to die, and the same sadness came over me as the one from earlier with Harriet. The fallen tribute was depicted as enthusiastic, a bit childish but strong nonetheless. I was glad she could at least have a good memory in her wake.

District Ten... I unconsciously glanced at Dahlia, who trembled slightly. Nobody died in our District. Yet.

Eleven consisted of Elisabeth Bronzebrook and Amil Everret, both whom I knew fairly well because they had appeared a lot in training and always went after Ten whenever it was anything formal.

Elisabeth didn't die. And Amil...nope, he didn't die either.

Twelve, twelve, twelve, twelve...I tapped my fingers against the ground in a nervous rhythm.

Only four deaths! That was incredible! Even though I was glad for the small amount of casualities, I was also afraid for everyone else. If the Games didn't progress fast enough, the Capitol might send something after us, which would result in...dead bodies.

"Come on," I said roughly, whipping my head around to nod at my allies. My free spirit guided me deeper into the woods(which had taken us, like, forever to run to) and they followed, knowing I might get annoyed if they didn't. Even though I wasn't the leader, I was the one who led them toward our new home, a small clearing.

I restlessly waited as they headed into the woods, not knowing what exactly I was waiting for but the fact that I could not and would not sleep. Sitting down with my palms pressed flat into the earth, I leaned my head back and simply looked upward. The trees obscured any view we might've seen of the stars, which was sort of unsettling, but I was glad for the sense of protection as well.

"That was some tame Bloodbath," Dahlia stated quietly. I nodded though I wasn't really listening.

"I'm...going on a walk," I said to anyone who would listen. Spruce's head shot up and he tilted it slightly. I assumed that meant he had heard me and so I wandered into the woods, marking my path with booted prints.

Soon I came across an open section where some wind was able to get through the trees. Yep, that was the reason I had suggested we should go into the forest. Because the wind.

I heard talking near a patch of trees in a secluded area and instinctively headed toward the voices. I tried to make the crunching of the leaves less noticeable but it was still pretty obvious. However, my curiosity took the better of me and I barely cared.

Forward, forward, stop. I felt that they had noticed me. They had stopped talking and the air was suddenly still. I paused as well, not even daring to move, the hairs on my arms sticking straight up. Suddenly I realized something through the pounding of my heart- I had never discovered my mentor's name.

 **10/29/2017**

 **review "yes" if you want your tribute to be done as a POV next chap**


	30. Loss And Loyalty

_**Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)**_

I remembered rather vividly, as I saw Harriet's smiling picture fire up into the sky, the last moments of her life.

Elisabeth and I had been running, with Rowan collecting items and whatnot behind us. The snow kicked up under our feet and I resisted a faint shudder as the wind bit through out jackets- they almost seemed flimsy in this eternal winter.

I had never seen anything like this before in Five- it was all new to me, from the cold weather to the weird feeling of hotness whenever I sweat even when it was freezing in the air. I had expected something definitely more tropical, like in those nature channels I watched. Definitely wasn't expecting this.

My mind scanned over the last few years, what had happened in the Games, and a couple things hit me: first, that the victor had always had to kill someone, and second, that everybody who had died died pretty gruesome deaths.

What I hadn't been expecting was the choking pain and internal guilt I felt when Harriet met her demise. If only I had took her under my wing..helped her and been allies with her, then I could've protected her. I wondered if she had been allies with anyone or if she had decided to go out alone. Judging by her friendly, sweet attitude, I figured not. And _that_ brought on a surge of anger that her allies did not manage to save her.

I kept tough, gritting my teeth and wiping away all traces of compassion until I was practically blank, like that weird Capital lady who had announced our arrivals, with the giant wig and emotionless aura. I didn't even feel like being sarcastic now- everything was gone but an intense fire that stole my breath away.

I pushed past Elisabeth fiercely and she cried out in protest, "Where do you think you're going?" The only sign of answer I gaze was the glance I cast around the clearing, to see if Rowan was paying attention. He was fighting some other tribute who had gotten in the way.

I had to do this quick. Panting hard without even realizing it, I dashed in her direction, my feet skimming the ground so lightly I was afraid I might fall. My head felt heavy on top of my body, like it was gonna sever or something.

"Twyla!" shouted Elisabeth. I didn't even know she could yell so loud. "Please, don't!" She tugged at my arm and a moment's hesitation caused her to drag me all the way to the edge of the clearing. Soon we were running again. I was completely numb- all the fight had poured out of my body. I was sapped of energy as well, it seemed.

I dashed a glance behind me and with a twist of my heart, saw Harriet with a knife straight through her skinny chest. Cornell was running away from them, while Azurine's brow was creased and she stood a couple feet away from the dead tribute, heaving for breath. Her signature smirk was on her face; I wanted to rip it right off her mouth.

We kept running, and slowly my senses began returning again. My instinct to survive powered me on, even when Elisabeth was panting for breath. I was running with Harriet in mind, her terrible death keeping me going because I knew she had jumped in front of her ally.

 _Harriet, how could you ever think of being heroic at a time like this, when we're all meant to be selfish?_ I thought, shaking my head. I continued forward for what seemed like forever.

Now, sitting in the snow, our makeshift camp nearby, I heard something: and I froze. Footsteps crunched down on the snow; whoever it was had a horrible sense of being quiet.

"Come out!" I shouted, hearing that whoever it was had stopped moving and just...stood there. The image of a set of bow and arrows poised at my heart leaped into my mind and I fought a bout of trembling. Whoever it was, they were certainly inexperienced, judging by their lack of knowledge in hiding the sound of their footsteps. So..they couldn't be a Career. Unless..unless a Career wanted us to think this way, wanted to trick us by purposely coming toward us as loud as they could muster?

The suspicious feelings lingered on and I crossed my arms over my chest, purposely over my heart. If they tried killing me and went for the head, I could duck. And if they went for the heart, well, surely some broken flesh on the arm and a little bleeding wouldn't do too much. Hopefully.

Rowan stared, not daring to move, while Elisabeth simply looked petrified.

"Come out!" Rowan joined in in a loud, intimidating voice.

Softly, Murray Keyes walked nimbly out of the trees, his eyes widened. "You wouldn't kill me," he said, no fear at all in his voice. Hmm. Impressive. "..Right?"

"Of course we won't," I snorted, rolling my eyes. As long as he proved his worth.

I gestured to Rowan, knowing he had swordfighting skills. "Please, will you?" A small smirk spread across my lips as Rowan nodded curtly, leaping at Murray and pinning him to the ground with a sword a hairslength away from his heart.

I didn't really want to be responsible for murder, so I gave him a chance. "What do you know?" I demanded. Elisabeth joined me quite breathlessly.

Murray looked like he was considering suicide for a moment. Then he shrugged, "Lots."

"Like..?" I nodded to Rowan and he pressed the sword farther, almost into the boy's flesh.

"Things." Murray's eyes narrowed. I sighed. This was going to be difficult.

"Given you're at our mercy, you might as well answer," I said sharply, hoping to scare the answer out of him or something. Why did I stink when it came to procrastination? "Would you rather die, or give us the information? We promise we'll let you go, unlike...some people, who kill once they have gotten all that is useful from one."

Murray's nose flared. "I'm not going to tell you my secrets and risk endangering my allies."

"You said allies, huh? Some loyalty you have there, then. Well, do you want to die?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Obviously not. But there's no way I could go back with my head held high if I let this weird nerd girl scare me." He said this all coolly, as if he knew my weak spots.

I clenched my fists. "You will answer, or you will not."

"I'd rather not. Take me prisoner if you want. I don't care." He shrugged lazily.

"Take you prisoner? Oh, we wouldn't bother- you're not _that_ useful. We could force it out of you." The suggestion made my blood run cold, and Elisabeth threw a rather dirty look at me, mouthing, _Twyla! That's cruel!_ We had to survive though. And we couldn't release this one grasp at information, especially when he knew where our camp was now. He would most likely tell his allies and they would kill us during the night. I knew for a fact that this boy would not be getting out of here alive, if I had my way.

I flicked my fingers and Elisabeth let out a shriek of alarm, "Twyla! Are you insane?!"

Rowan jabbed his sword into Murray's heart and it was all over. I looked away as the boy's shirt and jacket ripped sickeningly, blood pouring out faster than I would've thought possible. A large gaping wound lay on his chest. It looked like he had puked out all of his guts or something: yes, that gross.

Elisabeth covered her eyes and refused to watch, still glaring at me in a betrayed way, making me feel extremely guilty.

"Do you have anything to tell us?" I said, fighting to keep my voice strong.

"No-!" Murray said, coughing. "It's- obvious I'm - going to die, so what's the point anyway-! Whatever I say, I'll be gone before tomorrow. I'd rather not."

He convulsed on the ground, spitting blood, and then he went silent, and we all opened our eyes. I could see blood staining the ground in thick sheets, turning the snow and unnatural color like my hair. I still remembered what he had said. _..if I let this weird nerd girl scare me._ Anger pulsed through my veins and I was tempted to go kill him again. I wasn't like that! I didn't know what had gotten over me. I wondered what my stepmom would think. If I came home, carrying the weight of loss on my shoulders but also a huge prize, she would simply use me, boss me around and take control of me until it would seem like she had been the one to win, not me.

I turned away when Elisabeth tried to talk to me, when Rowan grunted that "at least we had gotten rid of another opponent".

"He saw our camp anyways- we had to have gotten rid of him either way," Elisabeth argued, trying to make me feel better. I pulled my fingers over my face and avoided her intense gaze. She was totally not making me feel any better. I had killed someone and I was guilty. Not Rowan, no. It was all my fault.

"Listen, I'm going to sleep," I said brusquely, sweeping past them and pulling the sleeping bag up over my head. I squeezed my eyes closed and let the cold try to make me feel comfortable, fresh. But it only made me feel more hollow than before.

"Okay," murmured Elisabeth. I twisted my head around, scooting to the edge of the sleeping bag so as not to hog space. Quietly, Elisabeth joined me; the only way she could fit in there was by tucking her head next to my shoulder. Rowan tried next and just managed to slip in.

"Um, guys, there's guts over there," Rowan said. "Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

"I'll help clean it up," offered Elisabeth at once.

I could feel the sleeping bag shifting. "Nah, don't worry about it, I'm fine. Just giving you guys a heads up in case someone finds us during the night- I wouldn't be surprised." Rowan's deep voice sounded.

"Oh, don't be negative," Elisabeth sighed. How close she was to me made me uncomfortable, and soon I was sweating from all the body heat instead of feeling cold. I considered removing my jacket but I didn't want to get a cold during the night or something. That would be the worst thing ever.

The rest of the night was difficult. I tossed and turned in the sleeping bag, never managing to find the right spot for me to actually relax in. My muscles were tensed up, which made it a whole lot worse. Whenever I tried to loosen my limbs, they just tightened up again, knotting themselves together. Eventually, I decided upon a so-so form to sleep in, with my legs tucked together and my head as far out of the sleeping bag as possible to get some fresh air, and my eyes naturally fluttered shut.

The rapid pounding of my heart reminded me that Murray's had stopped hours ago, and that there was a huge percent mine would quit its thumping in the next few weeks.

 _ **Dahlia Rhodes(D10 Female)**_

Sitting up, I felt something touch me during the night. I yawned, my eyes drooping heavily, and my fingers tightened around a slip of paper. It was fastened to a parachute type thing and I quickly untied it, my pulse racing. What was in this letter? I wondered. Would it be a source of water? I was definitely needing some right now, and the ice did not help in the slightest.

Actual melted water, that would be wonderful! Enthusiastic, I tore open the letter and read it as fast as I could.

Confused, I flipped it around, my eyes blurring slightly, almost with nostalgic tears.

 _Dear, Dahlia. From your friend, or I suppose that is what you would consider me, Mia._

 **A/N: Anybody remember Mia from the Reapings? Lol, it will all tie together soon. ;)**

 **Also, how was everyone's Halloween? I had a great time trick-or-treating(don't judge lol), even though it was raining like crazy where I live. Can't say no to a night of free candy, haha.**

 **Up next(or at least, that's what I'm planning, you never know): Cornell Wheaton**

 **11/2/17**


	31. Artificial Flames

_POINTS:_

Author196: 110

kealimepie: 260

hollowman96: 10

AtruxDragneel: 15

GalaxyPika: 15

Muddyboots: 155 (sorry your reviews were all the same)

jul312: 130

DeadlyHuggles: 160

Bananananananana: 5

BabyRue11: 20

murphyyy2000/hgfanboyy: 65

Elim9: 10

Jolteon2404: 95

The Wandering Phantom: 10

Poodlenoodles: 5

BloodedInk: 60

The Girl With The Knives: 35

EllaRoseEverdeen: 55

Pi Or Pie: 10

MrDauntlessHorse: 5

Lmklein20account2: 20

Guest: 5

BloodBath Guy: 5

yyvonnee: 5

Radio Free Death: 5

Guest2: 10

* * *

 _ **Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)**_

I woke up the next morning feeling very stiff and not at all refreshed. I immediately jumped to my feet, cracking my back and stretching. I felt like I was underwater, like my ears were being drowned. I sighed, laying my head back against the confines of the tiny cave and looking around. The sun was still down, with just a faint crack in the darkness signaling light. Stars shimmered faintly against the backdrop of sable, their twinkling reminding me of wind chimes.

Zahava was dead. So was Harriet. Now, the only one left from my alliance was Cameron.

My gaze shifted to the sleeping tribute. I was still kind of in shock at what had just happened the day before, the Bloodbath. _Day 2. I lasted to day 2._

That seemed impossible, now. Yesterday, I had almost died, with Azurine aiming a knife at me, prepared to throw it. We all knew she had deadly accuracy with throwing knives, which could've propelled Harriet to jump in front of me and take the blow. I hadn't even seen, and by the time I caught wind of the attack, she was already dead.

I wasn't really that sure I could trust Cameron. I mean, he was okay, but..Well...I couldn't stop thinking that he had that unnatural skill with the knives and it was really creeping me out because he could've been a Career no problem.

I decided to go out of the cave and get some fresh air, maybe even catch some food for us if I was lucky. I had never really hunted much before, being in the District for grain and all. It was obvious there were no farms here or anything, based on the temperature.

Setting off on a slow trot, every step making me on edge, I tightened my grip on the scythe I had managed to pick up during the Bloodbath, cursing internally for not getting a backpack; it would've made me felt so much more protected.

I paused, seeing that my footprints were making tracks in the snow. Kicking some over to smooth it back down a little, I continued on my way, mumbling random jokes to cheer myself up. "What did the cow say to the mushroom? Uh...hm.. _Mooshroom?!"  
_

I sighed, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants and concentrating fiercely. The open land was unsettling, but at least that meant I could also see if someone was coming toward me. We had decided against going into the forest because the majority of people would probably have the same mindset.

I shoved my hand into my jacket pocket and was surprised to find my token tucked deep in there. I hadn't even remembered I had brought it with me. The silver grain pin reflected the light dully, capturing the inner depths of light and letting out only a tiny bit. I stood there for a moment, simply staring into the grain, my heart aching for home.

 _Home._

Such a beautiful word. But first, I must win these Games. Pushing the pin hastily back into my pocket, I stalked faster, my feet kicking up snow, not even caring if they left prints, not even knowing where exactly I was going.

Each breath I took in began to turn ragged and there was a stitch in my stomach after a while. I barely had any breathing problems, but now I was reminded of them, by thinking straight back to the fire, and Grayn. Mom, Prairie, and Barley. Mom, who had fallen depressed after the death of Grayn. Prairie, who was so nervous about her first Reaping(this made me think of Zahava). And Barley, just a normal, happy boy who was not filled with any stresses at all.

Who did not understand why this world need be so stressful.

I fingered the pin again and pushed on, ignoring the darkness that lay behind me.

Soon the sun was up, bringing a flaring intensity of coldness, and I grew even more sweaty. I was almost tempted to take off my jacket except for the whispers that I might get sick. I used my scythe to catch a small raccoon-like animal, and brought it home with me while it was still warm. Its soft pelt brushed against me, threatening to strip away my conscience. I tried not to think about the raccoon thing as an actual soul and hurried to the cave.

Cameron was up by the time I got back, a huge yawn on his face. He nodded acknowledgement at me as I entered the cave, looking extremely tired. "Good morning," he said optimistically.

I smiled- his everlasting happiness was contagious. "Good morning," I returned. I nodded to the raccoon thing. "What do you want to do with this?"

Cameron studied it, contemplating. "We could use its pelt for warmth," he offered.

I ran my fingers across the creature's fur, noting how warm it was. "Good idea," I stated, "however, what about its flesh? Are we just gonna eat it or something?" I was repulsed by the idea.

Cameron made a face. "Ew. No way- that's cannibalism. How about we just use its pelt and worry about the flesh stuff later?"

I shrugged, "Sure. Oh, hey, I have a joke for you by the way."

A small smile flickered across his lips. "Yeah?"

"What did the cow say to the mushroom?" I asked cheerily.

" _Mooshroom_ ," Cameron answered promptly. "I've heard that one before."

I scowled.

The rest of the day passed by with a humor-tinged atmosphere. We got things done, bringing down a couple more creatures and working on removing their pelts. The food we rationed, due to a limited supply and both of us unwilling to eat animal meat.

Then night fell, and the chilliness came back again full force. My worries became more apparent in the way that the anxious lines in my face became more prominent. I thought of my siblings and my family, though, and my heart lifted with incredible hope. I would do anything to get back to them.

 _And to save Father_ , I added.

Cameron was studying me minutely, his lips slightly pursed, the small cheeky, radiant smile never gone from his face. I supposed that was what most girls saw in him: the fair skin, bright blue orbs, always happy and optimistic.

"Cameron," I began, "I was just wondering...not much happened today, compared to yesterday. Do you think...?"

His attention snapped up to me and he rubbed his brow tiredly. "I would prefer not to think about it," he said truthfully. "If we could avoid the stress and get back to it when it actually happens, then that's really the best we could hope for. Stress undermines you- I learned that looong ago." He grinned. "Which brings you to me."

I mustered a smile. "Yeah, I guess," I admitted.

We stayed up exchanging jokes, and I found out Cameron actually knew a lot of the ones I knew. I had thought they were special to Nine or something, but I guess not. Darkness descended upon the cave and I felt strangely vulnerable with the cave opening staring at me like that. Anyone could come through there as we were sleeping and steal our stuff. With that thought in mind, I began tucking our supplies into little niches in the cave walls, hoping that would be enough of a hiding spot for now. I moved the blankets and things right beside the niches so that if they wanted to get our stuff, they would have to move us, and we would wake up.

I yawned widely. "We should...get to sleep now."

Cameron nodded, "Yeah." We settled in and waited, our eyes wide open. I could barely sleep, my eyes having not adjusted to Capitol time, which was way different than normal. I rubbed my eyes and forced them to close, the clink of my pin tucked against the sheets in my jacket pocket.

I didn't know how long we just lay there, wide awake, before something scorched my vision. I blinked and sat up at once. Cameron was already tensed, his grip on his knives. He stared into the cave depths. "Who is it?" he called out. I was completely paranoid.

"You mean, _what_ is it," Cameron corrected darkly. "Look out!"

I let out a girl scream. I think you can imagine the rest.

Boys don't scream like girls unless they're really petrified and can't control themselves. That was what I felt like right now. Like I couldn't hold it in any longer, like I was gonna explode with fear...

"Um, I need to go use the restroom," I excused, quickly dashing out of the cave.

Cameron yelled back, "Dude, you don't have to make excuses! You're running away, aren't you? Are you seriously gonna leave behind all these supplies?" He did have a point there. But I was just too scared to even consider his words.

I knew that whatever it was, was inside the cave, and I didn't want to find out what it was that had made me wake up. I ran as fast as I could, coming to a rest in what seemed like no time at all. Heaving for breath, my hands cupped over my knees, I glanced back in the direction of the cave and saw that it was out of sight.

Good.

I kept running, running, running, my feet skimming over the snow, never stopping to look back once my foolish fear was ignited. Then I heard a loud, desperate shout that chilled my heart, "CORNELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"

I was practically torn. I wanted to go help Cameron but...my life was also important to me... Without even knowing what I intended to do, I tore through the frost to my ally, my heart pulling me in the direction of him. A fierce loyalty gripped me and as I skidded to a stop next to the cave, I spotted an artificial fire and halted immediately.

"No. Oh no.." I whispered.

The fire looked like earthly fireworks coming up from the lava beneath the ground, exploding and fire and danger. It was so red and orange, blazing hot and fiery, so _bright_. It made crackling noises like a whip every time it got closer, ringing the clearing so that Cameron was trapped.

To be honest, I had been putting much of my hopes into Cameron. Because he was so good with the knives, if I had died, I would've wished him to. After all, he had gotten that high training score and was now a major target.

I didn't know how I could get through the fire, so I just looked around dumbly. "Uh...Cameron...WHAT DID THE COW SAY TO THE SPONGE?" I distracted him.

My answer was a loud scream. I had the feeling he was getting burned or something.

I punched a tree and managed to unleash the tiniest bit of water from it. Cupping my hands underneath, I got what few drops came out and threw it at the relentless fire, which...did not help, obviously. The fire just snapped and blazed, stark against the wintry land.

The wall of fire rose and rose and smoke was thrown into the sky. Then- which would be known as the most magnificent thing I had ever seen if I came out of this whole mess alive- Cameron leaped over the fire.

It was just simply...amazing. He must've taken a huge running jump and somehow made it over the fire. It seemed so impossible.

"How?" I screamed at him.

He grinned. "Magic. I don't know."

"How do you jump in freaking boots?!" I yelled.

"Yeesh, calm down." He folded his arms.

"After seeing that? No way." I was annoyed he was taking this all so coolly, especially since he had been the one in the fire.

"This must be the Capitol's doing," Cameron muttered. "Fire in ice? Now that's what you call impossible."

I just nodded, panting so hard I couldn't breathe. My throat felt dry from breathing in all that acrid smoke, and my gait was slightly stumbled. We continued in silence, then I said, "What about our supplies? Did you get any?"

Cameron nodded. "Yeah, I stuffed my pockets with as much as I could get before the fire burned all of it down."

"Do you have any more of those cracker packs? I'm _starving_ ," I admitted.

"Yup- I think there's like one or two." He dug out from his pocket a flattened packet of crackers and I ripped it open, relishing the salty crunch that met my mouth. I devoured it so quickly my stomach began to ache, and I laughed aloud, surprisingly through all my anger.

"Why was the cracker green?" I asked, my mood restored as my hunger dispersed.

Cameron let me for this one. "I don't know, why?" His optimistic attitude was admirable.

"Because it had moldy cheese on it," I replied, cracking up even though it wasn't that good of a joke. I was just so relieved Cameron had survived. "You're the new Algar, Cameron," I smiled.

Cameron rolled his eyes. "Oh, I _hope_ not." His joking grin spread across his face. "Here's one for you. What is the question that you can ask every time and always get a different answer?"

"Your reflection. You changed it a little," I remarked.

Cameron nodded. "Yeah, I think it sounds more difficult that way."

Jokes were what we had in common and my heart went out to this twelve-year-old in an unexpected way- he was just so incredible, with the throwing knives, the endless happiness, the humor, the wisdom pressed between words...

Well, I would be rooting for him if I died, that was for sure. I was glad I had an ally I could trust, though, too; I had been extremely nervous about allies killing me during the night before.

As we continued walking and my eyes started drooping, I thought I saw a shadow move to the right, but I couldn't be sure, after all, it was super dark so I just ignored it.

 _ **Dahlia Rhodes(D10 Female)**_

The note was written in heavily pressured black ink.

 _You must think me your enemy now, don't you? Well, the thing is, I just want to warn you of something that will be a threat in your Games._

 _You know Murray Keyes, your District partner? Well, his mentor, Wendigo...he's sort of a criminal: I don't know how else to explain it. Beware of him, he might make appearances in the Games. Don't question me, just stay clear of him. He's capable of doing anything and you don't want to get in the way of his ambitions. I should know._

 _Please, this is your one advantage over the other tributes. Use it well~_

 _Mia._

 **11/6/17**

 **A/N: Omg I woke up soooooo early from Daylight Savings, hbu?**


	32. Fire And Now Water!

**Note- I was reading Alice's chapter for her reaping. Her encounter with Wade isn't going to end up anything by the way, unless she wins, then who knows. It's only to make her appear likable if that makes sense.**

* * *

 _ **Mica Mendel(D5 Male)**_

We set off at a slow pace the next day, slow because there had been no deaths yesterday(the second day) and few on the Bloodbath day. I myself was getting quite wary. Was there going to be some kind of Feast soon or something? I thought that was what it was called, but my brain was so filled with nerves of just surviving today that I didn't try to remember.

We set our stuff down in a cave, all on edge. Nothing could happen to us in here...right? Unless all the caves were triggered with something... or something... I willed myself to calm down and just _relax._ Re-lax.

We had been arguing earlier that day on what order we should walk in. Finally we had decided that I be in the middle, because I was beginning to hyperventilate on what might happen if I were in the front or back, Calamity go in the front as "scout", and Tyler in the back, who seemed content there.

Calamity spoke up once we got to the cave. "Are we gonna sleep or what?" she asked, her usual layer of sassy just below the surface.

I sighed, so relieved to be in this cave. "Well, if we are gonna sleep, I call the very back of the cave," I stated. I yawned for the umpteenth time.

Calamity bristled with annoyance. "Yeah. Sure," she muttered under her breath.

Regaining confidence at the agreement, I conversed, "Okay, so I go in the back, and somebody can go in front of me, maybe you, Calamity, cause you're the scout and that's what scouts do...and then Tyler, hmm, Tyler, where do you want to be?"

Calamity grunted, "You never asked my input on the matter.."

"Then what's your input?" I turned to her, and our words all began running over each other as Tyler tried to talk, failed as Calamity answered, and resulted in a heavy silence.

I groaned, pointing at Calamity, "You go first." I nodded to Tyler. "You second. Sound alright?"

"Sure," Tyler cut in before Calamity could respond, ending in a stony glare between the two.

I sighed exasperatedly, my fingers twitching like miniature spiders. "Please, quit fighting. Calamity, go. What's your input?"

"Well, personally, _I_ don't think it's _fair_ that _I_ have to be protecting _you_ ," she growled. "I think we should all be in the back of the cave- we're not all your protectors, we your allies, jeez."

"Okay," I contemplated slowly, my mind running like a turtle on this matter. It was fair, but I really didn't want it to be true. I knew it was selfish of me but I just felt so unsafe in the front.. I mean, anything could get in there, it wasn't like we had time to build a barrier or anything yet.

"Me next," Tyler raised his voice to get our attention. "Personally, I would appreciate it if you could stop acting like I'm air, thank you very much."

I sighed exasperatedly; this was getting way out of control. "Okay, fine, whatever, we're _all_ in the back of the cave. That sound fine?!" I was silently fuming, but sure enough, my words did the trick and Tyler's arms uncrossed, Calamity's glare lessening slightly.

"Fine, I see it's the best I can get," Calamity accepted.

Tyler shrugged and nodded. "Sounds fairer." He went ahead and unpacked his stuff, laying down on the cave floor with his back to the wall. "We have to work on that barrier soon, though. Otherwise, this home may just be temporary."

"Right on that," I sighed. "Hey, I can go ahead and start on it while you guys get some rest?"

Calamity's eyes narrowed. "And how can we trust you on that?" she fired unexpectedly.

"I won't kill you during the night, I promise," I rolled my eyes.

"Sure." She eyed me with an unconvinced look and settled in, though suspicion still lingered in her gaze. I didn't blame her, though. Out here, in the wild, you couldn't trust anyone, even your allies. I shivered, not because of the cold, and got to work on making a barrier to guard the cave.

First thing I noticed, was that the snow was getting really slippery and it would do no good to pack it into the cave as a guarding spot. All the snow could easily just melt down and destroy us all. So, change of plan: I would stuff it with as much logs and nature things as I could. I found a thick piece of wood and placed it on the ground. Kinda inefficient, but, with the intelligent side of my brain kicking into action, I quickly found a creative way to string the pieces of bark around, like some kind of metal chain. With that, I continued stuffing the opening with wood pieces until, finally, it was all done- the only question being how to get in and out.

I mean, we could always remove one of the pieces of wood, but that would likely destroy the whole thing in the process. Another way would be to poke some kind of hole into the wood and cover it with something lighter but still blending in, however that was going to work.

I exhaled mutely, sending a puff of white into the air. I was starting to consider the second option, poking a hole in the wood and trying to camouflage it when a rapping sound on the wood alerted me. Ears pricked up, I gently pulled apart a piece of wood, praying it wouldn't topple the whole thing. Luckily, it spared my hard work and I felt more steady as I poked my head into the tiny hole and shouted, "What is it, you two?"

I was greeted by just...water, plain water. It was knee-deep and rising fast. How was this even possible? There weren't any holes in the ground as far as I could tell...and the ceiling was totally packed in with earth. The back of the cave and all the walls were completely solid...

Oh, no, I thought, my heart sinking. "TYLER?!" I yelled. "CALAMITY?!"

Where were they?! Panic was taking the place of common sense and so I ran around acting like a maniac. "WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"I'm right here, you weirdo." Calamity's snide tone drifted out from the cave and I paused for a second, never so glad to hear the sound of her voice.

"Calamity?" I said in a low whisper.

"Please don't make this emotional," I could hear her sighing. "Just get me out of here."

"Wait, did you just say 'me'?" I began freaking out again. "I swear...WHERE IS TYLER?!"

She breathed hard and hissed between her teeth, "He's gone."

"GONE?"

Suddenly we could hear a splashing noise and Tyler came to the surface, spluttering and choking the whole time. "Ugh...guys...," he groaned, his hair plastered to the side of his head. I was so relieved to see him I almost hugged him except that I couldn't reach. "I'm not dead and insane am I..." he mumbled.

"How did you freaking almost die?" I cried out angrily. "The water was knee-deep, for goodness sake!" I clapped my hand over my mouth suddenly, realizing what I had said in my temper. "Gosh...don't listen to me...I'm acting weird... Um. Bye."

"You're leaving us now?" Calamity glared. "We need you to get us out of here!"

"I'll try. Just stay calm. Stay. Calm." I began taking apart the wood so that there was a small hole, though large enough for the two thin tributes to clamber out. Calamity climbed through the hole almost immediately, cracking her limbs as she got out.

"Thank goodness," she muttered, taking off her wet boots and throwing them into the snow.

"What about Tyler?" We met each other's gazes and I dashed over back to the cave. The water level was definitely super high now, though not affecting out here. It was almost to the opening I had made however...

The water wasn't deep enough to drown in but I was still worried he would do something stupid. "Tyler?" I called out, my fear hushing my tone.

He was gagging again. Seriously?! How did this happen! Without thinking, I crawled into the hole and into the water. It felt freezing against my pants and quickly the cold got to my legs. I shivered involuntarily.

"Tyler..." I whispered. My lips were blue from cold.

A giant round of coughing came up from the water and I swiveled my head around, my heart beating like crazy. My arms shaking, I said softly again, breath barely stirring the air, "..Tyler...?"

"Help me...I can't... Control." The last word bubbled up from the water and then Tyler was pulled back under, bubbles greeting me as I marked the spot he had disappeared. My mind running twice as fast, I dove under the rising water and grabbed ahold of Tyler's arm, not caring about the moisture stinging my eyes like crazy. Barely seeing through the blurriness, I held my breath and tugged at his arm, managing to get him above the surface and pushing him toward the entrance.

But then..the waves started sucking _me_ down. It was the weirdest feeling ever, like there was some kind of suction cup binding me to this place, or like it was metal and I was metal and it was affected by magnetism.

I was pulled beneath the surface even as I tried to kick my legs upward, and as my breath was stolen from me and I began gagging like Tyler had, I felt an odd feeling of peace. Like I had to accept this. Like it was my _destiny._

I had never believed much in destiny.

Jokes. Jokes I had believed in, because they made me _happy._

Plus I didn't want to be labeled a nerd of course.

The water tore me under and as my breath disappeared, so did my soul, so did feeling. My nervous system was shutting down, as was the rest of my body, starting from my lungs until everything else wasn't functioning right...

I thought of Tyler, and how I had sacrificed my life for him. I sure hoped it hadn't been for nothing. And Calamity...

I would never tell her that, but now a pang in my heart told me _oh, how I missed Calamity._

 _"I'll try. Just stay calm. Stay. Calm."_

I remembered those fateful words and wanted to take them back because I was definitely not calm right now and I couldn't see how anyone could ever be in a time like this. When I was _drowning_.

"Help me!" I gurgled, but the words were lost to the endless churning of the water, the sucking of the waves pulling me down against my will. By now my strength was failing, and I gave up, everything dropping to the ground, dropping until the last stone plummeted...my heartbeat.

 ** _Dahlia Rhodes(D10 Female)_**

 _Boom._

I heard the cannon roar and my heart froze. I hadn't heard that cannon in what felt like a long time.

 _Murray._ I thought. Murray had disappeared, killed by who knows what, loyal to us forever by the looks of it.

A picture was displayed in the sky as the stars came out, and I saw who had died that day. _Mica._ His beaming smile burned in my heart, just like that fateful letter.

 **A/N: Oml, I don't know why but I hate this chapter so much lol, anyway, enjoy y'all!**

 **QOTD: Do you guys know what Flight Rising is or have an account? I'm GraceKat99 btw if you do.**

 **11/10/17**

 **~Happy Veterans Day :)**


	33. He Saved My Life

_**Tyler Kaufman(D3 Male)**_

After almost drowning and Mica saving my life.. I had to admit, I felt mighty sad for him. He was so young and I remembered all those jokes he had cracked in vain, all those times he had been so scared of his life and had us protect him...

I mean, it had triggered me so much but it had also made me feel worse now. I would protect him again and again if it meant he hadn't gave his life to save mine.

 _I'm not worth your life..._ I thought sadly, my feet digging into the crisp snow of the ground. _Why did you do it..._

I hadn't been able to save him. He was already under the surface and I hadn't felt the need to risk my own life when I was sure the water would suck me down. _I'm a selfish, stupid, child,_ I thought, misery kicking in. _I don't deserve living any longer._

But a strong selfish spark kept me going. I had to do it. If Mica had risked his life for mine, I must keep going until the end, so that it wasn't all in vain.

We walked a while, it feeling very chilly and lonely between us because Mica wasn't here to fill in all the tension. I tried to converse with Calamity but she really wasn't the type to converse with. Her sarcasm often made things worse even at the same time when it was funny.

"Hey, Calamity..," I started numbly, but she just plodded on, not giving a sign that she had heard. I saw that nature had taken its toll on her finally and bags had appeared under her eyes, her tight curly hair in disarray. I could only imagine what her stylist must think about her right now.

"What is it," she said this in a sharp, cold voice, so unlike her usual cutting warmth. Clearly she hadn't forgiven me. She probably thought I was just a burden now.

"..I'm sorry," I managed in a soft voice, taut with tension. I felt tears prick my eyes. "I don't want to be responsible for someone's life...I never wanted to..."

She simply stared for an instant, her head cocked the slightest bit to make her look curious but not getting in anyone's business or anything- trust Calamity to get that kind of thing right on the spot. She spoke slowly, "I can tell you mean it but..." She faltered slightly, matching my gaze intensely. "...why didn't you come out immediately? Why? How come I managed to get out, but you didn't?" She snorted. "Or you could have just slow feet, but really, I'm wondering."

I gulped. I had been afraid it wouldn't come down to this. I shuffled my feet slightly, clasping my fingers behind my back and contemplating the best way to word this. When I had almost drowned...I had heard something. It was so strange though, like it was a hallucination. Under the water, some kind of speaker must've opened up or something and said: **_Everything_** _is for a purpose._

I shuddered and swallowed. I had to tell her, though, I couldn't lie. She would so easily see through every feeble fib I came up with.

Sure enough, Calamity's sharp brown eyes narrowed and she bit her lip in concentration, as if she could see through the guards around my brain. "You have something to tell me," she said suddenly, a thin smile crawling across her lips. "And it's something strange. If you tell me, you think I might think you went _crazy_. That close enough?"

It was a little too close for my comfort and I shifted. Had I been way too obvious?

"Face it, I know you too well," she said, now fully smirking. "Spill."

"You're gonna think I'm crazy once you hear me," I warned.

"Honestly. Do you think I care?" she demanded.

I sighed, shaking my head and fidgeting. "Yeah, you will once you hear this," I countered. Before she could bite back, I plowed on, "I heard this voice when I was drowning." I shuddered as I recounted the events. Drowning had been probably the most terrifying, scary event in my life ever.

"The voice...it told me _Everything is for a purpose_. I have no idea what it means, though. And I don't want to think that Mica's death was for, you know, a purpose..." I was blinking through wet, hot tears streaming down my face again. "Nobody's death will ever be for a purpose- they're all too terrible."

"Quit crying and listen to me." I was surprised to see that Calamity's hiss was back, the familiar grit of her teeth, the casual roll of the eyes.

I sniffed, her words soothing for whatever reason, and wiped the tears away, trying to make myself strong. This was so embarrassing, but I couldn't bear living through it... especially when somebody had **died** for me. Died!

"Done crying," I blinked my eyes and gazed at her evenly. "What is it?"

"Whatever that voice was, just ignore it. It's probably just some Capitol dude trying to freak you out. Calm down. Re-lax. I don't think you're crazy. At least, not now. Later, when I'm reflecting upon this conversation, then maybe. For now, get a grip on yourself and let's go." With that, she quickened her pace, until I had to jog to catch up. I felt like a complete and utter jerk- it was so humiliating at the same time.

 _Get a grip on yourself and let's go._ **Move on with your life.** I followed those words of advice and clenched my jaw, fastening the iron chains around my heart until I felt literally nothing, just a frozen numbness that somehow burned me to the bone. My tears dried on my cheeks into what felt like blocks of ice, I swept away all my feelings until they were gone from the earth, crushed under my feet into the snow where I would never step again.

* * *

 _ **Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)**_

 _"Jax... Oh, Ja-ax..._ ," I sang. I was in an amazingly good mood today now that I had survived another day, and so I could afford to be happy as I called my ally out from his deep slumber.

I couldn't help noticing that he looked awfully fragile asleep, like a porcelain vase about to break. That feeling was enhanced by a lot when my gaze landed on all those scars he had earned over the years. I felt an ache of sympathy, which brightened my voice at the same time.

"Jax?" I paused as I walked towards him. I had cleaned up the clearing somewhat, too, so that was a total plus on my mood.

He rolled around for a bit, mumbling incoherently before coming into consciousness. His first reaction was just plain embarrassment, his cheeks reddening fiercely. "You watched me sleep!" he cried. "What'd you hear?"

I smiled, a hearty laugh escaping me. "Not much."

"So what _did_ you hear?" His alarm brought my spirit up by miles until I was practically doing somersaults in the clouds.

"Just some 'mmmmmmmmmmm'," I gave an example. "I didn't make out any words though. Good thing?"

"Very." Relief spread across his face.

"So are you going to tell me or what?" I knew he wouldn't but it was still funny to see that agitation come over him again.

"No way. Not ever," he stated flatly, crossing his arms. I could see he was trying to muster up some humor but it wasn't happening.

"Okay, okay, we're definitely done from that topic," I grinned and he tilted his head, a smile twitching on his lips.

"Good." He took the opportunity to change the subject. "What's for breakfast?"

I glanced at the bag. "Whatever's in there," I shrugged. "Rations." I dug in there and fished out a couple granola bars. "Here you go." I tossed one at him and he caught it deftly, ripping open the package and devouring it in a matter of bites.

"Do you have another one?" he asked between mouthfuls.

I looked at the bag; there were four more granola bars. "Sure," I agreed, "but not another one!" I gave him another one and tore open the plastic surrounding the granola bar, scarfing it down faster than I thought was possible.

Jax's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Didn't know you could eat that fast," he remarked.

I almost choked on a chunk of granola bar. "Don't judge the outer appearance," I managed.

We were finished with breakfast in a couple minutes, pleasantly full, and then decided to go out on a walk, just to see how today was like. I hummed a small tune under my breath, one that my mother had sang to me when I was a little girl, only maybe five or six.

"What song is that?" Jax asked, and I glanced at him in surprise as I was completely immersed in the tune. "I've never heard it before," he explained.

"Oh- it's one my mom sang to me when I was little," I said with a shrug, the skip in my step disturbed as I thought. "I think it's called _Crater Moon_."

"Ah, well, okay," Jax nodded with a sheepish flick of his chin. "Then again, I've never really been sang many songs in my life." I knew why, of course. It was because of the home he had been raised in, the poor conditions. I winced, then immediately regretted it and tried to make it look like a nod, but Jax saw through it, eyes darkening ever so slightly.

We continued on. Everything seemed peaceful, the sky clear and pale blue-colored, the sun a small, round glowing orb. It was a little too peaceful, though, making me suspicious at every turn. I figured something was up, and when we returned to the clearing, I got my answer.

Somebody was there, plucking through our supplies, and his head shot up as we trotted swiftly toward him. I stiffened instinctively, shock jolting down my spine.

I recognized him.

 _It was about half a decade ago. I was swinging on the swingset right outside our house, the wind whistling through my blonde hair. My brown eyes were alight with freedom and the sense of risk-taking. At the time, I loved the adrenaline that ran through my veins, the danger it involved with it._

 _"Be careful, Alice!" I heard someone call but I barely heard them._

 _I went higher and faster, exploding from the world until all I saw was the sky and the satisfying, whirling dizziness. I shouted out loud, "Mother! Mother, can you see me? Are you proud of me?"_

 _I also fell off the swing._

 _I plummeted downward, for a moment screaming with pure joy, before I was being snatched up in midair and dropped onto the lush mattress of grass. I was confused for a second, then began bawling my eyes out, my heart ready to leap from my chest._

 _"Mommy!" I screamed. "MOTHER!"_

 _And that's when I saw him- my savior. His pale blue eyes were flaming in a way I did not understand, his skin roughly tanned. He was otherwise unremarkable, with medium height and figure, lithe and slight. Muscles must have been lined under his skin but they weren't prominent with his slenderness, did not bulge like most people's did in Twelve._

 _"Who are you!" I shrieked. "Where's my mommy!"_

 _Without even a word, he left. I never saw him again...until now._

"It's...you," I whispered.

"You've grown since I last seen you," he purred silkily. Of course I had grown, I thought. This wasn't just courtesy..

His eyes were hard but filled with undisguised recognition. He looked the same as he had been years ago, except perhaps with more muscle and less leanness. His eyes were harshly blue as I knew from memories, more grime on him than ever.

"Nice to meet you, Alice," he said in his velvet voice, smooth, irreplaceable.

"You...you're the one who saved my life, aren't you? All those years back?" I breathed.

"Yes." His eyes glinted cruelly. He wasn't the same person who had saved me all those years back, why, he had changed...

He smiled thinly. "And I'm also Murray's mentor. You know him?" He let out a sharp, brutally cold laugh. "He died. Don't you remember seeing his picture being projected into the sky? Foolish child."

I gaped at him. "You've changed," I uttered thickly.

He responded, "You're right; I _have_ changed. Everyone changes, Alice, mark my words. _Everyone._ Even you have changed from what you were before."

"But you became...cruel, evil." I stared, clenching my jaw against threatening tears. Just when I thought there was one person who might help us, this happened. Why must the world be so unfair!

"I was cruel and evil before," he stated. "And I do not expect you to understand, innocent thing that you are." He flicked his fingers. "And anyway, what I am here to do today is get rid of one of you. Any of you. Who would like to volunteer themselves?"

"This is stupid," Jax growled. "You think we're going to go down without a fight?"

"I'm warning you, the fight will be gruesome," he said cautiously.

"I don't care. At least I'll know I tried," Jax exchanged a glance with me and there was everything and nothing in it. I was at a total loss for words at the pleading look in his eyes. _Run. Run._

He lunged, eyes sparking with hatred and fire like a wolf, wanting to eliminate one of us from the game, like _that_ was going to happen. Determination fueled in my veins, I watched the fight as Jax parried his attack, as he went in again.

I was so engrossed in the battle I forgot that there was just one thing Jax had asked of me.

Run.

 _Run._

 **11/12/17**

 **A/N: Happy Veteran's Day guys! If you have any relatives who served in the military be sure to wish them good luck for things to come~**

 **Qotd: How many chapters do you think this story will have?**


	34. Upcoming Feast

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Persefone Douglas(D2 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Tyler Kaufman(D3 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Algar Black(D4 Male)

Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Alea Bryce(D7 Female) (i thiiiiink?)

Spruce Ashmark(D7 Male)

Rowan Loranger(D8 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Dahlia Rhodes(D10 Female)

Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)

 _ **Amil Everret(D11 Male)**_

We woke up the next day to an extraordinary amount of snow, covering the ground in huge sweeps- my boots were coated in the stuff. My allies...My allies... Then I remembered. I didn't _have_ any allies. I was alone. I cracked my back and sat up, scuffing the ground slightly.

I groaned. For a second I had thought I was back at home. But _no_ , I was here, in this dreadful mountain of a place, with the snow and the terribleness. Impulsively, I jumped to my feet, which made my whole body ache all over. Whenever I swallowed, a sharp pain would cut in my throat- like I had a cold or something. With that thought, I sneezed. Ugh.

I ate half of my rations and I still wasn't full, even drank most of the bottle of water I had found. I had never been sick like this before- Eleven was hot so the plants could grow. The pain in my throat a little better now, I decided to go look for a new source of water.

Outside, the wind blew heavily at my coat and my consideration for going back to the cave rose the more I ventured. My nose was beginning to feel uncomfortable, like I needed to sniff every two seconds, and my throat hurt again.

Still, I walked on, determined to not give up. The cold was so terrible my teeth began chattering, and my nose began running even more. Occasionally I would sneeze or cough, each breath becoming more of a wheeze. My breakfast became a lump in my stomach, just another burden to carry on.

I spotted little patches of frozen liquid but nothing serious. Soon I was so anxious to just find a medium-sized body of water that was still intact my pace quickened, even as I felt like collapsing from everything. I was sick- I was certain of it. But that didn't mean I had to stop.

I didn't find water, and by now my throat was so sore I could barely speak. I just managed to crawl into my sleeping bag before I fell into a dizzy sleep, the cold three times worse and filling up all the pain I could muster.

I dreamed of snow crystals, dancing through the air to land in a piling heap at the edges of my boots. I looked down, my head tilting low, to study the dozens of icicles melting on my shoes, creating a splash of water. Suddenly feeling enthusiastic, I took my almost-empty bottle and filled up as much water as I could. I heard a voice, wait, no, not a voice, a sound- of boots crunching across the snow. I gasped, lifting an arm and getting water all over myself, trying to swim up to consciousness, knowing that something was wrong..

When I woke up, it was dark, the stars pale in the sky. I lay on my back, gazing upwards, too sore to move. Then my head turned ever so slowly to glance at my water bottle. In my peripheral vision, I could make out a tall water bottle, filled to the brim with something clear. My eyes shot open, wider than I would've thought possible.

"Water?!" I whispered to myself, crawling to my feet and nudging the sturdy bottle. It was covered with a strange silky grey type material and was not the same one I had drank from earlier. The top was screwed shut and wrapped in a strong plastic, a knob at the top built for turning.

I didn't dare drink it. What if there was poison inside? So, looking at the stars and seeing that it was super dark out, I resulted to just sleeping again, feeling like I could never have enough. By the time I woke up- well, if you could even call it that- I was frozen. An ice cube. My lips were blue to anyone who would examine and my whole face, which was usually a warm golden shade, was tinted with paleness. My eyes were shut in the act of sleeping but no breath stirred my body. My skin was cold to the touch.

I didn't wake up again, because everything had left me, all feeling, all hope, and the coldness which had been approaching found me now, starting in sickness, ending in death. No medicine could heal me now, however slim that wish had been.

* * *

 _ **Persefone Douglas(D2 Female)**_

We were arguing. Again.

You would think that as Careers, we would be professional, getting straight to the point with no disagreement whatsoever. But _no._ Instead, we had to squabble like a bunch of immature squirrels. "Everybody!" I shouted, clenching my fists.

"Will you freaking shut up!" I yelled.

Algar crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. "They started it," he said unhelpfully.

"I don't care!" I returned. "You didn't have to continue it."

Skyrah was looking between them with narrowed eyes, looking like she might say something but then changing her mind. Felix and Azurine were glaring at each other. I hadn't even though Felix, who was usually so cool-tempered, could get this angry.

"Azurine, quit being a brat and actually help us for once. We're not your servants," he snapped, staring daggers at her.

She shook her head, her dark hair swinging over her shoulder. "Well, if you could actually prove yourself for once, maybe I would work. But obviously it looks like you're too incompetent and I don't see why I should interfere, even though you need help."

" _I_ need help!" His eyes were furious. "It's you who needs help, if any of us do! You're the one who always acts all smug when it's obvious you don't know a thing."

"Oh, I do know things." A pleasant smile raked her face; it looked so strange. "You want me to stab you with a knife in the middle of the night? Cause I will if you keep it up."

"Right." Felix simply glared at her disbelievingly.

I took the opportunity to intervene. "Guys, everybody shut up," I said to both of them. "You all need to take a chill pill."

"Too bad we don't have any here," Azurine retorted.

"We should though," I hissed at her.

I didn't want to fight but now she was getting on _my_ nerves, and everyone knew what happened when someone got on my nerves...

"Now you're fighting now, you hypocrite!" snarled Azurine.

I gazed her straight in the eye. "Do you want to make progress or not? If you wanted to actually help us, then you would know better; fighting does us no good. In fact, it's slowing us all down."

Azurine rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll help. But don't go pretending I'm your slave or anything," she added contemptuously.

 _Stupid,_ I thought irritably. Her prickly exterior was getting very annoying and not helping us out at all.

"Got it." I said nothing insulting. Hopefully this would make her less triggered. But, I observed as the day went on, she was still her normal, quietly smirking self. I sincerely hoped she wouldn't win the Games and would die a beautifully torturous death.

As night fell, I could see a small note catch the light. The others were sleeping, but I was wide awake. My footsteps pattering softly through the cave(which had been disagreed on a lot because of its many weaknesses, mind you), I picked up the letter and looked at it closely. It had a buttercup kind of look to it, and felt extremely soft in my frozen hand. A couple neatly printed words were pressed into its surface: _From The Capitol: I hope you have had a wonderful Games so far! We wish you all the best of luck. But, we have seen that you are struggling so far, and also, to give you an opportunity to get rid of your opponents, we welcome you to a Feast, where we will provide the one thing you need most. We encourage you to come. It will take place at the Corucopia, dusk tomorrow._

A Feast? Already? I knew what a Feast was, obviously, I wasn't stupid, but this was just too sudden. And it was only the beginning of the Games! They probably needed some action and were annoyed we weren't all killing each other: definitely a bad thing they had chosen this freezing weather which had made us all try to hide inside, not be on the offense.

I decided we should go. We needed the supplies, anyway, and this was the perfect chance to kill off some of our enemies, hopefully even that Cameron guy who had scored super high on his training evaluation.

With that thought in mind, I was energized, eagerly awaiting the next day, and so I fell asleep quickly.

* * *

 _ **Alea Bryce(D7 Female)**_

I trailed my finger along the brilliant shine of my axe, the light bouncing off it and turning into a million sparkles. Sure, it was actually in reality dull as heck, but what I saw, was a brilliant weapon which could be used in so many different ways: self defense, cutting trees, slicing stuff.

I couldn't believe I was still alive, even as my confidence told me I needn't worry. I was alone, I didn't have any allies to depend on. But then again, that meant I didn't have any allies who could betray me. Meh. Either way, I was determined I could handle it by myself, without risking anyone else's loyalty. _The only one you can truly trust is yourself, Alea. Don't think I'll give up and feel sorry for you, oh no. This is gonna be a fight to the death._

I shivered involuntarily, the old voices coming back to me of my previous victims from when I was an inexperienced child just picking fights at the orphanage.

Shaking my head, I looked at the pitch-black sky as the images of the fallen were projected into the sky. I hardly cared, though. I was too focused on protecting myself, even as it felt good others were being eliminated from the Games.

To get rid of all the energy pulsing in my body, starved of use, I swung my axe several times at a tree, watching it bow, not caring that I was exhausted. I needed to be exhausted to sleep, anyway. And this was a good way to let out all the stress, to feel calm.

I was done in minutes and I felt worn out. Throwing my axe to the ground, I closed my eyes, not entirely feeling safe, the weapon gripped tightly in my hand. Just in case.

* * *

 _ **Head Gamemaker: Izabel Kitla**_

"These tributes need something to really make them stress," one of the Gamemakers put in. We were sitting around a large screen that showed every contestant's exact position in the arena(represented by tiny moving blue dots). I felt so powerful here. One tap of the control panel and I could set a fire after any of them, likely to take away one of their lives.

"I know," I agreed thoughtfully, studying the screen. "We killed off Mica with that flood- I do admit it was smart of you, Opal."

The woman with heavily done makeup and dark purple hair smiled. "Yes, it was," she said, dipping her head. "We can't keep on doing this, though, we have to do something big to get rid of a lot of tributes."

"What do you suggest?" I shot at her, though I already knew what she was going to say.

"A Feast of course." She tilted her head, eyes sparking. "They're known for being highly deadly."

"Do you think a lot of them will accept our invitation?" I questioned.

She tossed her head. "Many of them are desperate enough. Including the Careers- they'll be eager to find them all rounded up in one place; it must be difficult when they're all scattered like that."

"A Feast then it shall be." I paused with my finger on panel. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. At dusk, so it shall be dark," she added, eyes glinting with experience.

"Excellent." A series of taps hit the screen, vanishing immediately as they did, swallowed by the glow. A Feast. Perfect.

 _Except this won't be for the food..._

 **11/19/17**

 **A/N: Idk why but this chapter was cringy..**


	35. 2 Deaths

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Persefone Douglas(D2 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Tyler Kaufman(D3 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Algar Black(D4 Male)

Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Alea Bryce(D7 Female) (i thiiiiink?)

Spruce Ashmark(D7 Male)

Rowan Loranger(D8 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Dahlia Rhodes(D10 Female)

Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)

 ** _Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)_**

The snow was growing, funneling down onto the ground, landing in fluffy, powdery drifts outside our cave. I sat cross-legged on the ground, humming absently, my hair hanging over my shoulder in a messy tangle. Everything around me looked a smidgen fuzzier, because my glasses' lens weren't functioning properly. Still, overall, everything was okay, for the Hunger Games. A bit action-free, but that was a good thing.

Sure, Persefone looked moodier every second, a permanent, anxious frown creasing her eyebrows that told way more than we were allowed to know. And sure, Mark was dead. And _sure,_ we were getting into more fights as time went on. But, with the progressively tensing atmosphere, came the feeling of quiet peace, tranquility in my own little bubble.

I looked down at our bag of allotted rations, which was not much. We, as a giant group, had already devoured most of our food we had picked up, and were now on low supply; because of that, Algar and Felix were out to see if they could get anything. Azurine had been quiet for a long time, simply staring off into outer space, probably thinking of the fight.

I hugged my legs closer and closed my eyes, the cold burning my skin even though it should've done the absolute opposite. Nothing happened...for a while. We were all waiting for Algar and Felix to come back.

Then, Persefone broke the silence. She dropped the bunch of twigs she was carrying and said curtly, "Guys. Listen up."

I glanced at her for a moment. It was odd hearing her voice after such a long period of silence. "Yes, Persefone?" I asked quietly.

Her cat-green gaze landed on me with a fierce harshness, like fire. " _Listen_ ," she repeated. So I took the hint and shut up.

"Azurine," Persefone beckoned, her eyes cold as she looked at the District Four tribute.

Azurine glowered back like a poisonous pear. "If you insist," she responded cuttingly. "Now, what is it?"

"Yesterday, I saw this letter," Persefone said rapidly while we all listened with open ears. She explained what the letter said- stuff about a Feast- and asked for our opinions. Smart, though, how she didn't exactly give her own. Of course, Azurine caught on to that immediately.

"Hey, Persefone, you didn't exactly give your _own_ opinion. How about we listen to that first before crafting our own? See- I need time to think," Azurine said coolly.

"Well, personally, I think we should go," Persefone retorted sharply. "We need the supplies, for one, and for another, we really need to get rid of some of those other tributes- especially the ones who have...unusual skills."

"Cameron," Azurine listed. "Jackson- I saw him doing some archery in training."

"Who else?" Persefone cut in. "Those two aren't likely to come."

Azurine thought for a moment, eyes glinting. "Alea. I think she was great at the axe."

"Well then...Alea, interesting. I wouldn't have thought she would come, but anything's possible, really."

"Same goes for the first two," Azurine added. I honestly felt like a stone between them. I was that overly friendly girl but I wasn't so sure I could, well, discuss _tactics._ Still, it was conversation, and I adored conversation.

"Yeah," I put in, "right. But also, did any of you guys think Tyler might be a threat? I mean-"

"Tyler?" Azurine stared at me like I had gone nuts. "You mean that nerd with the bright hair?"

"Well, yes, but please, don't call him a nerd, that's actually rather rude of you," I corrected.

Azurine sighed. "..Alright then. I'll admit- he's rather creative, for one. Could come up with strategies we'd never thought of and lure us into something. Who's his ally again? His District partner?"

"Calamity and Mica," Persefone stated.

"Mica's dead," Azurine pointed out. "So really just Calamity. They've got good planning, but what can they get done? They can't have a brain but no action. As far as I can tell, Calamity's sassy, with a bad temper. 'Sassy and a bad temper' won't get her anywhere."

I had to admit she had basically summed it all up.

"What she said," Persefone said, seeming frustrated. "We'll get rid of Tyler, leave her alone and useless. Without his cleverness, she'll be dead meat."

"Good...," Azurine contemplated. "Then maybe this Feast won't be so useless after all. We'll send someone to get the supplies before everyone else. Dash in, and get out. Who wants to do that?"

"Uh...Felix?" I offered. "He's capable of doing it efficiently."

"Felix," Azurine agreed. "Then we need a strong force to come in and get rid of as many tributes we can do. So me, Persefone, Skyrah, and Algar, with each of our best weapons. I'm sure they thought they would need weapons, so we'll have to surprise them. We can distract them first, get them fighting and attack- jump out at them when they're least expecting it. Then, with them busy, Felix can come in during all the chaos and grab whatever he wants- he can even take the other tributes' stuff if he's careful."

"Oh, look, they're coming back," I noted, spotting Algar and Felix coming toward us, their boots making fresh prints in the snow, reflecting the light like glass.

"We should prepare now," Persefone interjected. "Get weapons, sharpen swords, and the like."

My pulse was beginning to flutter and I felt hard adrenaline pulsing beneath my skin. "On it," I said confidently, inclining my head toward my ally, thoughts of victory bursting like fireworks inside my head.

* * *

 _ **Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)**_

My plan had been to avoid the other tributes at all costs. That meant, even with this tempting invitation, I had to remain here, to be safe. Though..I really wanted to go...

Cornell had shook his head the moment I spread the news. "Nope. Not going. Don't you even dare."

I felt a laugh stick in my throat. "Dude, there's no way I'd go."

"Good." Cornell's expression turned serious. "Because we don't want to risk our lives- not now that we've survived this long."

"We're not going then," I concluded, grinning. "Safe here. At least we'll have a good night's sleep."

* * *

 _ **Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)**_

"Are you sure you want to go?" I pleaded with Twyla, but she was not budging.

"Yes!" Twyla exclaimed exasperatedly. "I've told you this a million times and I'm not gonna say it again. Really, if you don't want to go, then don't come. But I'm going. We need the things now that we're running low- I think the Capitol knows that." She set her jaw.

"Which is exactly why we _shouldn't_ go! It's probably surrounded by traps because they've seen too little deaths. We can't be lured into going. We'll be basically dead in there- dead, I tell you. I'm not- I won't let you." I gazed at her desperately, fear lighting my gaze.

Twyla grunted. "I guess I get your point. But don't you want the supplies? Isn't that what the Hunger Games is about- taking risks? We have to risk it this time, or at least one of us. Just to see what it's like, in case they have another. And I'll go."

"We can't lose you!" I blurted out frantically, words coming to my mouth like never before. I didn't even think it was possible I could say so many things at one time. All I ever remembered was the stammering, quiet, shy girl back in Eleven. But now... maybe I had changed? And for the better? I didn't know about that...but for my friend, I would do it. For my ally, I would do it.

Twyla's hard, decisive gaze softened. "Look. How about we all go? Then it's all settled. Otherwise, they'll have the experience and we won't! We need at least one person to go."

I almost considered shouting out Rowan's name but then remembered he was my ally too and even if he wasn't as great a friend as Twyla was, he was still a friend. "Umm...I mean, I can go...But not you!" I said as Twyla's lips parted to retort.

"This is stupid," Twyla mumbled. "We can't separate."

"We'll find each other again," I said fiercely.

"Who's going, again?"

" _I_ am," I reminded her impatiently.

"No, you know what, I'll just go. I know about that place, and I probably have more experience than you with nature stuff, I used to watch the shows, you know- no offense." She opened her mouth and I expected her to say more, but instead, she let out a string of trills, kinda like a really loud bird. Honestly, I wasn't even sure the human throat could do that.

"That was you?" I echoed, eyes widening.

Twyla smiled proudly. "Yep. So, I'll come up with something, get away from all the fighting. You can trust me."

"I suppose," I said doubtfully, my eyes falling.

"Don't worry. You'll see me when you wake up tomorrow morning." I felt the fight drain out of my body as she said this. "Goodbye." With those last words, Twyla turned and jogged at a swift pace away from the area of forest, to the open area of cold, back to the Cornucopia.

* * *

 _The Feast_

 _ **Wendigo - Predator**_

I laughed to myself softly as I hid behind a curtain of branches, my feet soft on the ground. That Alice girl..she had been stupid. A fool, to ever have thought I had saved her life just because of good intentions. Everything's done for a reason, there's no such thing as good or bad sides, everybody's bad. Everybody had a sliver of evil in them however tiny it was, and that evil could be enlarged when the potential to have power was placed in front of them. They would let go of all good angels and fly towards the bad, towards what everyone called "demons". Evil. An eternity with nothing beautiful around them anymore, because they were swarmed with greed so powerful they would do anything to obtain it, just for a moment.

Wendigo. Such a silly name. My mother had been a fool- she had named me after the mythical creature because she wanted me to be her "handsome, strong little boy". I had killed her and my father at the age of fifteen...had made the news by the time I was little over thirteen for robbing a man of his wallet. But that had just been kid stuff. The wallet had only contained $45 anyway. Nobody puts things in wallets nowadays.

When I had been younger my mother had took me to a salon to get my hair done. She had tried all sorts of bright, cheerful colors, but I had been attracted by none. Instead, I would examine the pictures on the walls of mythological creatures...and one, the owner said, was a wendigo. A tapestry woven with dark browns, it depicted some kind of beast creature, with horns sticking out this way and that, fur covering his skin. The threads were stitched together with a sort of metallic copper, adding this really cool effect that made the piece of art look ominous.

"Look, Wendigo!" my mother exclaimed, beaming at me. "It's you!"

I rolled my eyes to the sky. "Mom, no it's not. Do you think I look like him?"

"Oh, Wendigo." My mom smiled and ruffled my hair affectionately.

Now, at the present, I could see the Feast happening before my very eyes. My plan was all set: Cameron was safe, and most of the others were fighting, hopefully to eliminate a couple tributes. If they didn't, I would go in and kill a couple, just to make sure this was all actually for a purpose: gathering the weaklings. I bet I could take on every single one of them single-handedly.

I could see the Careers crouched in the bushes, ready to dive out into the open and take them all by surprise. Nice plan. I hoped they got rid of at least two. It would be fun watching them kill, seeing what kind of tactics they used. Usually they were very hopeless.

They sprung out of the bushes and tackled a tribute each, bringing them to the ground and using their individual weapons to pin their opponents down. Tyler was trying to scream for his ally except Persefone was punching his mouth and blood prevented him from speaking. He gagged, spitting mouthfuls of red.

Persefone showed no emotion as she pressed her hand down on his neck, a sickening splinter of the bones and ligaments and i-didn't-pay-attention-in-science-class stuff. Altogether, it was extremely enjoyable watching him thrash around in his death throes, trying to yell out as his windpipe was broken and he was gasping for air.

"Dead," Persefone called out.

Meanwhile, Azurine was scanning around for Cameron, but I knew he wasn't here. Safe, in his camp. I laughed to myself as she gave up, going instead for Alea, who was running toward her bag of supplies.

She pulled out a knife in a matter of seconds, its blade glistening with potential energy as she threw it with deadly accuracy at Alea. The girl just noticed in time and jumped to the right, cursing under her breath, a sneer on her lips. Within three milliseconds, her axe was out.

The two circled each other, different because Alea was used to close-range and Azurine far-range. I watched, eyes smoldering with anticipation at more blood and gore.

Finally Alea closed the distance and hefted the axe above her, ready to bring it down in a death blow. But, Azurine was fast- and smart. She had already jumped nimbly to the side and thrust a knife into her opponent's stomach, looking on as the District Seven tribute bled to death, holding her stomach as pain seemed to come to her in waves.

"You- holy f- it hurts..." A whimper escaped her softly as her eyes burned with rage, gazing up at Azurine.

Azurine's mouth opened, her jaw tensing, then simply stalked off, her eyes downcast. I was staring at Alea, as she writhed wildly, trying to get the knife out of her stomach. She succeeded but that only caused more blood to gush out, staining the snow a horrific color. The air was tainted in a thick smell.

Felix had gotten the supplies the Careers had needed and left, while Algar and Skyrah worked together to bring Dahlia and Spruce down. Blood was flying, flesh was literally ripping everywhere and the snow was covered in guts.

Yep, this was my kind of place.

 **11/23/17**

Happy Thanksgiving guyyyyyyyyys! I went to the Thanksgiving Parade today. :) It was AWESOME.


	36. A Double Feast?

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Persefone Douglas(D2 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Algar Black(D4 Male)

Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Spruce Ashmark(D7 Male)

Rowan Loranger(D8 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Dahlia Rhodes(D10 Female)

Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)

* * *

 _ **Wendigo - Prey**_

Who died? you may ask. Well, I'll tell you now. Be on the tips of your toes. Be on the edge of your feet- for I will tell you now.

Algar and Skyrah descended upon Dahlia and Spruce like vultures, their weapons slashing at the latter. A stomach-roiling smell burst into the air as their knives cut deep into flesh. Dahlia cried out as she was thrown to the ground, a nasty blow dealt to her head. Spruce seemed more alive than I would've thought possible, his loyalty driving him to pull out his own small, blunt knife and aim for the Careers. However, sure, he had great strength, but he also wasn't used to using this type of weapon. The knife almost fell out of his hand as he jabbed it toward Skyrah and Algar.

Skyrah leaped nimbly away, her breath coming in fast pants, but Algar..he was too late. While he was dealing with Dahlia, landing a punch to her jaw that nearly severed her neck entirely, he had forgotten about Spruce...probably underestimated him, even. Inside, I knew the District Four tribute was weak. Weak and a coward, oh, he was "good, kind, _brave_ ". On the outside he could pretend he was powerful, strong, a predator, but inside he was truly just prey. Scrawny prey, to be exact.

Nobody would have expected this, but a _Career_ was eliminated. Algar Black met his demise at Spruce Ashmark's hands, somebody whom nobody would've expected could take down a District Four tribute. Dahlia's eyes fluttered and she let out a soft groan, holding her head. When she pulled back her hand, she saw it was sticky with blood. She was barely alive.

"Dahlia?" Spruce spoke quietly, though there was firmness in his voice. "Are you...okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'll leave sooner or later anyway," Dahlia grunted, fighting to keep her head up.

"You're not leaving," Spruce vowed gruffly. "I'll save you; somehow."

Watching this tearful conversation was making me irritated. Just get over it! Why couldn't he leave her to die and walk away? Jeez! He could probably even kill off some more opponents if he weren't so busy crying over Dahlia's already hopelessly gone wounds.

"It's not like you've got a...doc-octer," Dahlia croaked, splinters of pain rushing to her face.

"Nevermind that," Spruce retorted fiercely. "Somehow, someway, I'll get you to safety."

"In this?" Dahlia gestured all around them with a weak arm, in the direction of all the fighting. "Impossible. J-just luh-leave me. Don-don't sacrif- fice yourself. I'm a luh-los-st cau-ause."

Spruce's jaw moved silently for a moment, flexing itself. "Please... You can't give up. You can't just end it now."

"I'm sorry," Dahlia's voice cracked. "But then y-you'll be a little bi-it more ahead, you'll b-be close-er to w-winning if I'm g-gone." Her breath came jagged. "..Good-goodbye. And good lu-luck. I h-ope yo-ou win.."

Spruce's expression went to one of horror. "No-!" he sputtered.

Dahlia's eyes faded from their usual brilliance, the color of sky, to dull gray. Her skin lost its healthy gleam, turning a sickly shade, her mouth twitched, lips flecked with foam, the effort to speak too great...

Then, she was gone.

Skyrah shook Algar's arm. "Algar..?" It was obvious he was dead, though, and she quickly let go, her eyes widened. She met Spruce's gaze, understanding something between them that didn't need words. Then they both went their separate ways.

I felt so frustrated. She could've just killed him! They both had chances to destroy the others and they didn't take it...Cowards...I growled under my breath, sounding interestingly like a wendigo. Though, there was still that satisfaction that Cameron was safe, because I needed him later on, in my plan.

This Feast was good, though. Four deaths, as far as I could tell: Tyler, Alea, Dahlia, and Algar. _Fifteen more tributes left... Fourteen to die before the arena will be open to all._

* * *

 _ **Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)**_

I couldn't believe I had gone this far, honestly. It was so incredible: To be honest, I had thought I would die in the Bloodbath itself.

Now, I was back at the Bloodbath area, shivering in the open night air, my jacket seeming way too thin in the environment. _Don't worry. You'll see me when you wake up tomorrow morning._ I wondered if that was true- then immediately berated myself for questioning. I could make it back. I could get us the supplies, and survive all the killing.

I arrived at the Cornucopia later than everyone else; it was dark as a crow's wing, the stars glinting sharply like edges of a knife. I glanced around and saw that all the fighting had already began- had just about ended. My bag was still there, thankfully, so, without anything better to do, simply ran toward it. My footsteps were muted on the cushion-like snow, which was already stained with the blood of past fallen. It made my heart freeze a bit but I made it to the bag soon enough, without any trouble.

It was eerie reaching for the bag, with no one there to stop me. There were no other bags and mine was ruffled, as if someone had already went through it. My fingers wrapped around the crinkly brown paper and I clutched on to it like a lifeline.

I reached into the bag and felt something hot and moist touch the palm of my hand. My fingers grasping at the thing that was so comfortable-feeling in the cold, I gingerly withdrew it from the bag. It was a dark blue rag, its heat beautiful where everything else was ugly, frozen. I felt myself thawing as I touched it, and hugged it to my chest, amazed no one had bothered to pick this up.

There was something else in the bag- a note. Curious, I untied the little red piece of string knotted around, reading the paper with anticipating eyes.

 _Dahlia. I meant to say this to you-_

 _ **DAHLIA?!**_

So that made more sense. This _wasn't_ my bag, it was Dahlia's! Somebody else _had_ gotten my bag, then. I wondered what had been in it, a childish part of me refusing to believe I could've been so unlucky. Oh, well. I had to be grateful for this letter.

 _Dahlia. I meant to say this to you, you know the guy I spoke of before, Wendigo? Well, actually, I'm being forced to work for him. I have a secret that I cannot tell you, but he knows it. So, I'm trapped in eternity as there is no way I will let him reveal the secret to everyone. They would lock me up after that- it is too terrible._

 _Wendigo is a criminal, to put it simply. Stay clear of him, for he will get you someday. He is searching for something in this arena that I do not know of, but I have heard him whispering about it many times when he's drunk. Trust me, Dahlia, please. I know you think I'm the bad guy but I'm not. I'm being_ forced _to work for him, I told you. I'm trying to find out more. I'll tell you later, but maybe it'll be in a long time. I don't have a lot of money and I have to pay for the sponsoring to come where you are._

 _Best of luck for the arena, you are doing amazing. Mia._

Mia? I didn't know who this Mia was...but this sure was strange. I pocketed the letter and stuffed the rag back into the bag, returning home, my footprints crushing the dried blood on the snow.

* * *

 _ **Spruce Ashmark(D7 Male)**_

I felt like a part of me had been taken away after Dahlia died. She had been the leader of my group and I had thought she would always live...like she would even win, maybe. But then, just like that, she was dead and I was alone... How could I survive alone?

Hard resolve snapped into place, though. I was determined I could do it, that I could make it the rest of the way by myself. I had all the supplies, I mean, it was possible right?

Sure, I hadn't given a crap when Murray died, but now, with Dahlia gone, it actually meant something. I was truly..Alone. If they had switched positions, my thoughts might've been different. But for now, they were rock solid, my memories clear in my soul about the two.

My voice was hoarse from...I guess...Crying?

I clenched my fists. I could go on without anyone. I could go on without anyone.

And besides, I had survived this whole way. I could make it another few weeks- it wasn't like there was much competition left- right? The thought making me feel slightly better, I gathered up everything and stalked off.

* * *

 _ **Felix Saunders(D2 Male)**_

I had to admit, for a Career, I felt terrible after we had basically slaughtered everyone. I had gotten our bag at the Feast so I had avoided much of the killing(it wasn't like I had wanted to, anyway; I was glad for the small coincidence). There were tons of bags left so I just got a couple of other peoples', thinking they could probably help us.

Now, in the cave, we were unwrapping the bags and taking peeks inside. I had our bag, which was a sandpaper color, and ripped it open to see what we had gotten. In the bag, there was a toothbrush- which was _so_ helpful, like we were going to share one toothbrush- but the other thing, a small pocket knife, was way better. We had lost a bunch of weapons at the Feast, with Algar dying(his chilling presence gone was still a bit unsettling), and everything else being lost in the mess of escaping.

I shoved the knife into one of my jacket pockets and held out the toothbrush. "Anyone want it? I mean, if you have toothpaste or anything in one of those bags.."

* * *

 ** _Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)_**

We woke up the next morning, exhausted but, at least, safe. "Good thing we didn't go to the Feast," I remarked, remembering the shockingly large collection of deaths last night. The sky had been practically exploding with fireworks as they projected four images into the air.

"Yeah," nodded Cameron, "and good thing we avoided _that_." He was speaking of the deaths, I assumed.

I cracked my back, yawning and stretching and doing all those things you do in the morning when you don't want to get up. "Hey.." I began, noticing a little fluttering red-and-white thing, kinda like a banner..?

Cameron glanced at where I was looking at and his head tilted slightly, a bit cautious, a bit curious.

Then the tension exploded and we both ran toward it, asking simultaneously, "IS THAT FROM A SPONSOR?"

I got to it first and saw that it was a balloon-type parachute thing, crumpled now that the air had ran out. Attached to it(it looked rather like little wings, to be honest), there was a plastic bottle of water with printed writing- 16.9 FL OZ- and a packet of food rations.

We had been running out of food so this was an amazing discovery- I nearly jumped for joy when I saw it. "Food!" I exclaimed, while Cameron yelled out, "Water!" We grinned at each other, because we had had no luck in finding a good water source so far, and our past food was getting annoyingly tasteless.

But now...

We dug into the food rations, splitting them evenly and making sure we didn't eat too much, just enough to give us the proper amount of energy.

However- the food! There were canned peas and corn, what seemed like delicacies now when a few years ago it would've been considered normal. A bag filled to the brim with crackers remained uneaten, a warm, fresh loaf of bread ready to be devoured. And, it wasn't made from the tasteless tesserae grains, oh, no, it was the fine, rich ones slathered in golden honey. Altogether, the food was just...arresting.

I tried a piece of the bread and it was delicious. It warmed me from head to toe where the cold had become numb; its flavor was absolutely wonderful. The water was just, well, water, not much to say about that: as for the peas and corn, we decided to save it for lunch.

The crackers were good too, even though they were dry and my lips felt chapped from eating it. They had a healthy quantity of salt layered on top that, with its excellent crunch, made me feel incredibly lucky. I had five, letting Cameron have the rest we were eating today.

I did drink a lot of water because of the crackers, which I vowed to never taste again(they were so dangerously delicious), and, when we were all comfortably full, my stomach felt like a rock. It was like we had just had a feast- before, we had been half starved, and now we were superbly full.

"It's like our own Feast," Cameron cracked.

"It is," I agreed easily, a small laugh surprising me. "Except wayyy better."

 **11/26/17**

 **A/N: Omg my dad's getting mad at me now cause it's too late :(**


	37. Mutts Emerge

**AHHH, guys I'm so sorry for the late update, I have so much coming up, first my orchestra concert next week and then my piano recital next week. :(( ALSO, I had to write this chapter 3 times because the first time my dad clicked out of the screen when I was still writing and it wasn't saved yet, then second my computer glitched out when it was unsaved. I should really start saving this when I right lol.**

 _ **Also,**_ **if you've been paying attention the last few chapters, you'll notice a pattern...**

 **Plus I've decided to reply to each and every one of my reviews! So yay!**

 **REVIEWS(:D)**

 **jul312: Thank you! Tbh, it was writer's block that made me keep each individual POV so short and switch more often, xD.**

 **BloodedInk: Woah, really? For right now, tho, I haven't really picked a victor yet. We'll see later on!**

 **kealimepie: Dahlia I really liked as well but then, I don't know, I didn't think I could portray her as well I guess?**

 **DeadlyHuggles: Wow I admit I didn't think about that part when Dahlia died. Rip tributes of D10.**

 **Jolteon2404: Thanks!**

 **Guest: Thank you!**

 **Muddyboots: He was mentioned briefly a few chapters back. ;-) Also, you can send a sponsor gift through reviews..? Unless you want to keep it a secret until the chapter, then if you have any other ideas let me know!**

 **Author196: Yep :( p.s, people of the world who are reading this part: a Career is going to die in this chapter *coughcough***

 **Anywho, thanks for the reviews, and on to the chapter! I made sure to make it super long!**

* * *

 **STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Persefone Douglas(D2 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Spruce Ashmark(D7 Male)

Rowan Loranger(D8 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)

* * *

 **Wendigo - Predator**

After the Feast, everything died down. It was like the leaves had stopped rustling, like every little sound became a magnified version of itself. My footsteps crunched oddly on the snow, like, like crackers. Weird that I should think about crackers _now_...but, anyway... Getting back to what I was saying: _everything_ , and I mean everything, was silent. The blood and screams from before seemed like a lifetime ago. I saw the occasional red footprint on the snow, like someone had accidentally stepped in a pool of blood and hadn't cared enough to wipe it off.

 _Idiots, all of them,_ I thought suddenly, my teeth baring instinctively. Just then, an image of a girl popped into my head- I knew her by name. _Alice._ What had happened that day, again? I could hardly remember. Stretching my brain to the limits, I finally produced one single, shining memory:

 _"I'm warning you, the fight will be gruesome," I hissed, my fingers clenching, eagerly awaiting to spill blood._

 _"I don't care. At least I'll know I tried," Jax flashed back, eyes darkening with inexplicable anger. His eyes slid toward Alice and she gazed back, determined._

 _And utterly stupid._

 _I ran forward, literally salivating. Blood was so close...it was right there...the annoying skin just needed to be ripped..._

 _Jax hit me so I went stumbling, but I was determined too. Determined to get rid of one of these children so_ he _could have a better chance of winning. Soon it became just a blur of attack, counterattack, parry, defend, and dodge. I was on autopilot, not giving much thought into what I was doing, my mind filled with hatred and contempt._

 _Alice ran, and the crazed smile on my face grew wider. I was so close...so very close..._

 _Jax grabbed my arm, twisted it so it hurt- but the pain barely touched me!- and sent me sprawling onto the ground. I panted, fully aware of what was happening now- that I was losing. I got to my feet, my breath coming heavily, then let out a sharp, bitter cry. A bird's sound._

 _Jax looked away for a second, and that second was possibly the most important second ever. Using it to my advantage, I kicked him in the shins, wrenched his shoulder so hard a crack split the air, and then landed a solid punch to his face. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I looked on coldly._

 _"You should never have even thought to fight me," I said while he was at my mercy. "You should've just let me kill you, while I was still happy. Then maybe I would be kinder to you and let you not suffer._

 _"But now?" I raised an eyebrow. "Now? You've proved yourself to be an enemy of mine, and_ what _do I do with enemies?_

 _"You want to know what I do with enemies, Jackson?"_

 _"I torture them."_

 _I laughed hard, so hard. I hadn't felt this way in a long, long time. I hadn't felt so powerful in so long. He was another stupid citizen who lived under the Capitol's control, with no senses of his own whatsoever. Now, he would pay- with his life. Let this be a firm reminder to those who choose to follow the Capitol._

 _"You're evil," spat Jax, "pure evil, I tell you! Pure evil never wins."_

 _"Oh, but pure evil will now...," I said softly, in a menacing tone. "And you don't have to tell me- I already know." Of course I wasn't evil. Sure, I thirsted for blood sometimes, but it was all against the Capitol, the terrible Capitol, I hated the Capitol with all my heart..._

 _Jax's face reddened with terrible anger and his eyebrows went down to knit a straight line across his forehead. "It won't happen," he said quietly. "It won't..." It was turning into a weird sort of vow now, kind of disturbing._

 _He threw me away and dashed off as I was struggling to get to my feet. When I stood up, snow covering my jacket, he was already out of view._

Such a waste, I thought bitterly now. But sooner or later he would be gone...

* * *

 **Persefone Douglas(D2 Female)**

We were just settling down, getting used to the cave without Algar, when more disaster struck.

I was devouring a granola bar, my eyes stinging red from the cold. The others were laying around lazily, not really feeling in the mood to do work. I knew we needed to venture outside soon, however. This change of activity was unsettling. "Hey, guys," I said, my voice sounding strange in the silence. It was like everything was on mute until now.

"I'm gonna go just walk around..see if there are any threats we should be looking out for," I ventured. "We haven't been out in a while, so we have to especially keep on the lookout. Just in case." I didn't dare give examples. I think they all knew what could happen, what consequences there could be from one little mistake.

"Uhh...anyone wanna join me?" I asked, seeing as they all simply nodded unenthusiastically.

When no one answered for the second time, I raised my voice, "Any volunteers?"

Felix let out a groan. I guess that worked for an answer. He said, "Sure..I'll come."

"Anyone else?" I swiveled my head around, keeping everyone in my vision.

"I'll pass," Azurine shook her head, her glare meeting my steady gaze.

"Skyrah?" I prompted.

She shook her head as well. "Sorry, Persefone, but just in case anything attacks our cave, Azurine may need a backup."

"Sounds good," I nodded. "Come on then, Felix."

We set off at a quick pace, me eager to get out a little. The wind brushed through my black hair, which was totally in need of a thorough wash. Leaves and other things had been caught inside unruly strands, but it wasn't like we had a comb or anything. Besides, what did it matter? Having good hair didn't make me any more capable to kill one of our potential threats.

Nothing happened for a while, but then, I felt like the air got colder. Goosebumps covered my arms, my breath coming sharper.

"Felix?" I said in a whisper, which made it a million times creepier. "..Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"No, how would I?" he said logically.

I shrugged, but that didn't mean I was any more reassured.

We kept walking and walking. Still I felt like something was there, like an invisible phantom. I considered telling Felix this but then changed my mind: he might think I was weird.

The hairs on my arms rose beneath my once-comfortable jacket. We kept on going, and I couldn't help casting a few glances over my shoulder, just in case. There was nothing behind me, though. Nothing at all...

"AHHH!" I screamed involuntarily, leaping backwards, my heart in my throat.

"WHAT?!" screamed Felix, equally loud, his eyes wild even though he hadn't seen what I had saw.

"What is that?" Now that I had time to recover from the shock, I felt way better but still...scared. I felt like I was in a horror movie; the wind chilled on my back, the sky seeming to darken even as it was blindingly bright, the moon coming out, the stars swarming in... I shivered, biting my lip so hard I felt like it was going to bleed. I had a feeling my face was deathly white.

"Persefone? What are you staring at? You look faint," Felix observed unnecessarily.

Without meaning to, I snapped at him, "Be quiet, okay?"

He quickly shut up.

The next few minutes went on in a blur. What I had seen was impossible, it looked impossible, it couldn't be...

I shook my head, trying to get these thoughts out of my mind.

Suddenly- and it happened so sudden- we were surrounded by these strange creatures. Half bat, half leopard, half caterpillar, with long insect-like bodies, brutal, long claws, and wide wings. They had sinister smiles on their faces, really disturbing smiles that hinted at needing mental help. However, their eyes gleamed stone-cold malice, with not a hint of compassion.

Felix's mouth fell open and his jaw moved for a second. He met my gaze; I met his. Then, both reading each other's minds, we ran toward the creatures. My feet pounded the ground, I felt like I was on autopilot.

I kicked out at anything I could reach, all the while withdrawing a knife from inside my jacket. Using that knife, I dug it into their flesh, blood running down wounds in their sides. I slashed at them with such force I could barely stay on my own feet; I was so focused on getting them out of here.

My brain connected for an instant and I realized: _mutts._ These grotesque creatures were soldiers of the Capitol.

This hardened my hatred a bit more. Why did the Capitol have to make it so hard for us? We had been loyal to them the whole time and this is how they repay us?! My mind in a frenzy, my temper rising, it wasn't long before we had driven back the mutts entirely. The last made a soft whimpering sound which would've made me a bit sympathetic had it also lifted its creepy smile.

We thought they had been gone but then, much to our surprise, they came rushing back full force, surrounding us completely. This time, though, there was much, much more; we were outnumbered beyond hope. The crowd of mutts were like stone walls, and I wanted to bang my head against it because of how terrible I felt.

"Felix!" I shouted. "Go get help!"

"Go get help?" He stared at me. "How am I supposed to get help in this?"

"Ugh, I don't know! Just do something!" I ordered.

Then- a sudden flash of determination swept over me even through my hopelessness. I lifted my chin- I could do this, no problem. I could do this.

Felix's response likely ruined everything. "I _am_ doing something—I'm doing nothing!" he protested.

I growled impatiently. "Then just fight. We can do it." I clenched my fists, eyes like lasers.

The mutts didn't attack though, which was odd. I kept waiting for them to move, but they seemed to be glued to the ground. A few minutes ticked by and I had the feeling we were wasting our time here, that someone would come, and that we should just take our chance and leave now.

Someone did come, just as I moved my foot.

She was very beautiful, and not in that fake Capitol way, no. She looked like she had been born naturally pretty, like she had been molded into that form to stay in forever. Her eyes were blue like rivers, brilliant sapphire blue, deep, rich, ocean depths. There was no way I could describe it- her eyes just conveyed basically everything.

Once you looked past that, though, you could take in the more natural details: the dimpled cheeks, the shimmering, flawless blonde hair tied neatly into a fishtail braid, the pale, sparkling skin, as if it were ice. She wore a voluminous dress that could definitely not go into battle; in fact, she looked like a queen, not a warrior. She even had a little tiara of olive leaves in her hair carved from metal.

"Hello, tributes," she purred, and her voice, her _voice_ , it spoke of seasons of nature, wind, water, the ocean, the sky, the moist soil beneath one's feet.

Felix's knees were buckling. He looked like he just might collapse.

A knot of anger grew inside me and suddenly she did not look as beautiful as she had. Her skin was now wrinkled, her once-gorgeous hair a mess of gray. Her mesmerizing eyes turned into drab brown holes.

I gaped at her. Was this all a lie...was it all just an illusion?

"Get a grip on yourself, Felix!" I snapped at him.

He trembled, his legs turning into water, like they would not support him any longer. He shook so hard; his face was pale white. I couldn't even imagine the effect she must be having on him now.

"WHAT THE FRICK FELIX," I groaned. "Snap out of it.."

He did _not_ snap out of, which was super irritating. And furthermore, the old hag was looking at me with a tilted head, like she was curious or something. I suddenly felt fear shoot down my spine.

"My dears!" she sang. "Could you please...do me a favor?"

The mutts surrounded me, their sickening smiles the last thing I saw as I fell to the ground in a mess of blood from a dozen bites.

 **A/N: Yawn..I'm finally finished :D**

 **12/4/17**


	38. Breakdown

**A/N: OMG GUYS I am sooooooooooooooooo sorry for not updating sooner, I was so busy this week trying to get in practice for violin and piano and then just procrastinating on various websites *cough***

 **Ask me questions in the reviews!**

 **STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Spruce Ashmark(D7 Male)

Rowan Loranger(D8 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)

* * *

 _ **Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)**_

That night we saw Persefone's face glow up in the sky. It was quite sad but not as sad as I had felt before which, to be honest, hadn't been much either... Anyway, I thought I was probably getting immune to this whole death thing, even if it hadn't taken long.

My allies were still however. That was good.

Although...I had a feeling something was up: and guess what, I was right.

The day was coming to an end, the day after Persefone's death that is. As far as we knew, all the other Careers were still intact and alive. Elisabeth was out trying to find water and Rowan was busy sharpening his sword in the corner. I hummed to myself, a bit numbly.

"Hey, Rowan," I spoke up once I realized it was quite late. "Why don't we build a fire, just for a little bit, to warm up our hands?" We did this every day, just had a brief time to thaw.

"Just for a little bit though," Rowan said in a sort of warning tone. I nodded in agreement. We all knew the consequences which could happen if we took just a second longer.

"But first, let's wait for Elisabeth," I said, glancing around just to see if she was coming. But no, I could catch no sign of her, and so we would have to wait a little while more. I sighed, rubbing my hands against each other for warmth, though of course it barely did a thing. I had been doing this all day, and the previous night seemed a long time ago. My palms were dry and cracked, the weather ruthlessly carving lines into the skin, calluses thickening.

She came back a few minutes later, thankfully, because my fingers were getting really numbly cold. "Fire," I told her briefly. She nodded, shivering slightly.

I set a couple sticks into a pile and showered tinder into it. The edges began to thin out and burst into flame. Heat fanned out in a circle beside the newly-formed fire and I put my hands next to it, letting the flames warm me.

Elisabeth let out one huge breath. " _Awesome_ ," she breathed. Her breath fogged out into the air, kind of like smoke.

I nodded. My hands already felt so much better, the cracked parts mending together until they were almost moisturized again.

When Rowan put out the fire, I barely bit back a snap. It just felt like he was taking away a piece of me with that flame, even though I knew somebody would find us sooner or later if we kept it going.

Turns out, somebody did find us, and when they did, my wish came back to me, and it stung like crazy. I really wanted to take that back, because now it seemed like innocent coincidence.

And, of course it had to be the Careers.

I jumped to my feet at once; what in the world were they doing here?! Elisabeth did the same, though she was shaking a bit, and Rowan lifted his chin in defiance. I glared at them fiercely. "What are you doing here?" I voiced my thoughts.

I recognized them all from Training: Skyrah, who the only word I could think of when I saw her was _glasses girl._ Then there was Felix, who looked a bit dazed, his eyes were out of focus, and Azurine, all tough with her scalding glare.

"I said," I repeated clearly, though I was sort of shaking on the inside from fear just like Elisabeth(of course, I'd never admit it), "what are you doing here?"

"Do we have to tell you?" Azurine retorted coolly. "I never knew there was a rule we had to tell our _enemies_ what we were up to."

"Of course you don't have to tell us," I snapped crossly. "I was just wondering." Though there was some sarcasm hidden in there, overall it was just plain venom.

"We just happened to find your little...," Azurine's lip twisted slightly. "... _fire_. So beautiful but..." She raised a finger. "Why did you destroy it?"

"We destroyed it so you wouldn't come here," I growled. "And so you should probably leave now before I slice your head off with a hammer."

"Tell me." She dropped her hand and leaned forward. "What exactly do you _think_ we're doing here?"

"To kill us, obviously," I flashed back immediately.

"Obviously?" She raised an eyebrow, anger flaring in her gaze. "Well that's just prejudice, I think. Why should you believe all the Careers are evil?"

"Not all the Careers are evil, but you most certainly are," I spat. Elisabeth let out a quiet gasp.

Suddenly her insults were all back, and Azurine hissed, "If I'm evil, then what do you think you are?"

"Better than you," I grunted.

"And you're sure about that?" Azurine waved a hand. "But anyway, back to the real reason we're here. We want to know everything. Everything you've got to tell us. We'll try to avoid harming you, but if you prove to be difficult.." She drew a knife from the inside of her jacket, small, light, sleek. "..then we'd be happy to get rid of another opponent."

"Azurine, I think this is too much," Skyrah said softly. "Maybe we should just leave or something..."

Azurine snarled, "And like you know about my life? You know how hard it has been to prove myself to my stupid parents? Well guess what? I'm not doing this because I'm evil! I'm doing this because I have to get home as soon as I can and you all are interfering! If only you knew what a burden I have to carry around everyday."

"I don't know anything, but..I still don't think we should kill them. It's just cruel, you know... And I know you want to get home, we all do, but-"

She gave Skyrah one of her notorious glares. "Stay out of this," she warned.

Skyrah opened and closed her mouth, then decided to simply stay silent, though a look of anger was on her face. I didn't even know she was capable of feeling anger.

Suddenly, Rowan was staring at Azurine in horror, and I swiveled my head around to look where he was looking. Her face was twitching uncontrollably, barely veiled anger, yet a ghost of sadness blossomed across her eyes.

Her eyes lowered, she took the knife and used it to stab Rowan. His death was mercifully quick, the knife's aim perfectly precise, going straight through his throat. He gasped, clutching at his neck, then fell to the ground and was gone. Barely any blood even poured out of his throat before he was gone, the life drained out of his body.

"NO!" I yelled, running to Rowan and shaking him. It had all been so quick.. "No...no...no..." I choked in grief, my eyes felt like they would scream if tears didn't come out but I held it in, swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to be strong.

Azurine looked scared too, and she took back her knife, clutching it to her chest, her eyes widened.

"Azurine...," Felix muttered, teeth gritted, shaking his head.

Skyrah just looked on, a blank expression upon her face.

I wanted to pound the earth until my fists were bleeding, I was that mad. Partially because of my grief but also because Azurine had done it...she had really done it...she must have an extremely strong need to prove herself...

She did look regretful, though. But that only soured my hatred.

"How dare you...," I seethed. A fire burst inside me and I stood up, confronted her face-to-face.

"Twyla!" Elisabeth warned, fear in her tone.

Azurine dropped her gaze at once, she looked almost fragile. "I'm leaving," she said suddenly. She ran off, her feet pounding the snow. Half of me wanted to chase after her, to get my revenge. But the other half spoke common sense, that there was no point because she already had a giant head start.

Felix and Skyrah joined her quickly, footprints marked in the white. I stared at my feet, anger in my veins. I hated Azurine, I hated her so, so much. Why did she have to kill Rowan? And why did I have to partially feel sorry for her because of her need to prove herself? And that backstory I had never known...I wondered now, what that might be. And if I could ever feel differently if I knew the whole story.

As the snow fell around me, I realized there was still a lot I had to learn about Careers. And maybe, someday if I survived the Hunger Games, I might just investigate that.

* * *

 _ **Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)**_

As I ran, I felt like an entire mountain had collapsed on me. I was practically shaking at what I had just done to Rowan. And where had those flames come from? I-I wasn't evil...I think...I mean...

I put my head down in frustration. My inner turmoil was just too strong. I was fully regretting all the things I had done, all the people I had killed, all the lives I had taken so selfishly, but in the Hunger Games, isn't everyone selfish? Isn't everyone only caring about themselves? Even when they make alliances, aren't they only doing it **for themselves?**

I felt a new bout of worry that maybe people made alliances because they had forged friendships, and not because they were selfish people.

Maybe I was the selfish person. Maybe I had to acknowledge that. I just wanted to get home, but why did I have to take all these people down as well? Why?

I cried harder than I had ever cried before in my life, because I felt utterly horrible, and I didn't think anyone could ever forgive me. Why did Persefone have to die? Why did Mark have to die? Why did Algar have to die? At least they were better humans than me. I was a monster. I...was...a...monster..

I sobbed even harder.

Get a grip on yourself, Azurine, I thought, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. Why did life have to be so unfair? Why did I have these parents? Why did I have to be born in District Four? Why?

Finally done crying, I dried off my tears on my coat and felt my whole body shaking. I was a monster, I could find no more humanity, no more good in myself anymore. I had completely lost my personality to the brutal Games.

I got to my feet, vowing that I would change. Vowing that I wouldn't kill any more.

But I was still doubtful about my own self control. And that doubt...that doubt blazed through me harder than the despair I had felt earlier, that doubt was so overpowering I almost doubled over because deep inside, we were all monsters with a limit to when we would snap. My limit...my limit needed to be pushed back as far as it could go. It needed to be gone, I wanted it to be gone. I never wanted to see this monster again, because I knew everyone else wouldn't think of my regret, they would just think I was a lying, stupid, cowardly-

Not person. Not person.

I would call myself something not a person for right now, until I could regain control, and make sure I still had some good in there, in the very depths of my soul.

 **A/N: Yayyy good job Azurine *claps slowly***

 **12/10/17**

 **My dad's bday is tomorrow! Super excited to give him his gift!**


	39. Interference

**A/N: Omg I sincerely apologize for the lack of chapters I won't make this long so you can enjoy the chapter :) Winter break is next Wednesday which hopefully means more activity on this story! You guys are** **my motivation, thank you for staying with this story this far**

 **Here we have some sponsor stuff, Calamity giving herself a pep talk, and a very ominous death at the end..**

* * *

 **STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Spruce Ashmark(D7 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)

* * *

 _ **Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)**_

I was getting seriously suspicious when another package landed on the ground, Monday morning. On Mondays I was usually halfhearted, not really conscious of my surroundings, but I realized, I had changed a lot since the Games began. Now, each sunrise, I woke up, alert, fresh from sleep.

I was also getting used to seeing Cameron already up before me. He was going through our rations, picking out a couple things, like bread, and nuts, and splitting them between two piles, one for me, one for him.

"Gee, thanks Cameron," I yawned, shaking the fatigue out of me and blinking slightly, not used to the gleam of the light after a long period of darkness.

"No problem," he nodded.

I devoured my breakfast slowly. It was composed of walnuts, dried cranberries, a protein bar, and a bit of water. I definitely felt like someone who was fighting for his life right now, just looking at what I was eating.

Usually in Nine, we would eat things dealing with grain, like breads. It wasn't the best, but at least it was enough so that our stomachs weren't too empty. Right now, it felt like I was eating nothing, just crisp morning air.

"Hey, Cornell," Cameron observed. "Usually you breathe in the food- what's with you today?"

Sure enough, I thought as I looked down at my portion, I had barely eaten a thing. The food felt tasteless in my mouth now, like sandpaper, and I was afraid I would throw up if I even tasted some more of what we had been eating for the past few days.

"I don't know," I muttered, not really wanting to spill the actual truth. Trying to change the subject, I cracked a joke: "Anyway, what were we talking about yesterday- that story about the lady with the really crazy hair in my District. Oh, yeah. Well, she had the craziest hair, let me tell you. It was really frizzy and super pale, like the color of the snow. But she wasn't old or anything, she was in her mid-twenties. Weird, huh?" Really, it wasn't weird. Kinda lame, in fact. But I had nothing much to say.

Cameron narrowed his eyes, biting on his lip, but said nothing. Then he forced out a shaking laugh. "Yeah, weird. Super..weird."

"Hey, look at that," I pointed out something which had just caught my eye. It was a package of medium size, quite similar to the one that had held our previous sponsor supplies.

"We need that," I blurted out, my happiness mounting. "It feels like a month ago that we received the other one.."

I dashed for it and tore the package from the parachute-type thing. Cameron followed at a slower pace, his enthusiasm slowed probably by my oddness. "Whoa!" I exclaimed as I peeked inside. "Clothes!"

Cameron raised an eyebrow dubiously. "..Clothes?"

"Come on, we've been wearing the same thing since Day 1," I protested, laying out the two pieces of clothing beside each other. They looked extremely stark against the clean snow, one seeming to be weather protective and the other a blend of brown and whites, perhaps for camouflage.

"This is useful stuff," I grinned from ear to ear. "Come see, Cameron!"

He came over at a quicker walk than before and then he was smiling too. "This is awesome!" he gasped. "It's a miracle!"

I nodded, beaming. "I call the camouflage one!" I said, leaving Cameron with the one for weather protection. The weather protection suit-type thing was a dark gray, thick and feeling like rubber. It still camouflaged well, just not as well as mine. Same went for me- mine was thick, but not thick enough to be called "specially designed that way".

"This proves miracles do happen," Cameron concluded, his eyes bright, "even in the Hunger Games."

* * *

 _ **Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)**_

Now Tyler was dead. To make matters worse, he was my last ally alive, which meant I was completely and utterly alone now. Everything seemed so enhanced, like my vision had been sharpened. The snow was crisper, the cold dug deeper into my skin, and the trees were even more taller than before, casting great shadows before them.

I found a different place to stay, just because I was a little paranoid someone would find me. Now, I didn't have any company, didn't have a single soul in the world to help make decisions with me. Everything I did- from here on out- would be my choices entirely.

I shivered, tucking the jacket closer around me and exhaling slowly. A burst of clashing warm and cold air made my breath look foggy for an instant, before fanning out again. I sighed.

I wished for the warmth of the library, the flickering candles and the beautiful shelves filled with wonderful books. I wished for just one moment where I could not be afraid, where I could have at least one other companion again. I wished for the aroma of pages in the air, going up through my nostrils and sending a feeling of satisfaction and pleasure through me. All these wishes weighed down on me until it was difficult even to be sarcastic anymore.

I dug my nails into the skin of my arm- nails which I had not cut in a long, long time, and told myself it was all a dream.

It was all, all a dream.

But no. Nothing was ever a dream, here. I stood up, a sudden rush of determination consuming me. The embrace of its hot flames, the lovely feeling of strength that came with it, made me a bit more confident. My chin rose in sharp defiance.

"I can do it," I whispered to myself, my voice hoarse, a ghostly echo. "I can do it. I've done it before, I've survived until now- I can't just give up."

* * *

 _ **Wendigo - Prey**_

I looked around in the shadows, examining each tree. I knew there was a specific shape I was looking for... Aha. There it was: a bush the size of a rabbit with thin prickly leaves resting on top.

My plan with Cameron, I thought with a quiet laugh, was going well. More than well. I had waited years for this and _finally_ I was getting what I deserved. This would be the product of all my hard work, and nobody could ruin it like last time.

Plus, all those days of pretending to be "nice guy" as Murray's mentor had been really draining on my energy, and I had always went to bed feeling extremely tired. Now, I could be as powerful and manipulative as I wanted. All of these tributes were nothing against me.

Except, I thought with a scowl, Jackson and Alice. They had technically "won" against me.

Ugh. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All those Capitol's brats in their annoying Games. Well, now, I would take them down. I had grown up with the Capitol, but now I knew better. The Capitol was just a band of little, peanut-size brained people and it would be easy to take them down and replace them with my own method of government.

I remembered my mother and the salon once more, the tapestry, the bright colors she had tried on my hair. Wasting her money on useless things.

He should be here any moment now... Ah. Yes. My eyes narrowed into mere slits in my face and my lip curled.

He was tall with gleaming eyes that shone in the darkness. I had left him a note earlier next to his camp and he had seen it. I had told him that I would hunt him down if he didn't come, and he must've been afraid, a coward without his allies, because he had listened to me. I laughed to myself, trying my best to contain it because I knew I had to get the timing right, had to leap down as a surprise attack. I was high up in a tree, perched on top of a slender branch that swayed dangerously under my weight. My plan was to jump to the ground, hopefully without a sound because the snow would muffle the impact, and use that same force which brought me onto the earth, to kill him.

I lowered my head, crouching in the shadows, my ears pricked.

It was hard not to show signs of nervousness, especially when this moment would either be death or failure. I knew it was a one percent chance that my opponent would win, but it was still a chance, and I hated chances. The only time I was satisfied was when things were straight up facts, a fact that I would win, a fact that I need not worry.

But I couldn't predict the future, however much I wished I could. Though, of course, I wouldn't want to be predicting my own failure.

I cast these annoying thoughts away from my head and concentrated on the plan at hand. I would jump down at him, then turn and shove him to the ground. Hopefully the amount of power used in that blow- a blow to the back of the head- would cause him to fall unconscious, and from there it would be easy.

There were many ways to kill a man. For one, you could slit his throat, let the blood seep out, droplet by droplet until they gathered in a crimson puddle on the ground, dragging his final moments on. The merciful way would be to break his neck entirely, wrench it until there was blood, yes, but it was mostly bone and muscle. That would probably even sever his spine, the death coming in a matter of seconds, with no painfully slow bleeding.

Another way, of course, was to go for the heart, or just the chest area, if you couldn't aim for such a precious part as the throat. There were veins and things that lurked under there, the lungs, the rib cage, and, of course, the heart. I willed myself to remember that the heart was on the right side if I was facing him. And, also, that it was difficult to go for the heart because it was so small, like the throat, and could potentially miss and just fly over the shoulder.

Third option(I had decided I would pick options based on which angle he was facing me, increasing my nervousness), was to just slice him open and let him bleed. This could happen anywhere, on the face, on the head, etc. Also, if my head blow thing didn't work and he got back up, totally good and knowing of my presence, I could perhaps fake that I was aiming for his heart- then, when he dodged as my dagger was soaring through the air, I would run forward, catch it again and shove it into his flesh when he was only focused on protecting where I was pretending to go for.

There, that was my plan, I thought, somewhat satisfied. My pulse was still really quick, my heart thumping and bumping against my chest, like it wanted to jump out of my rib cage. I tried to calm myself, to no avail.

He was approaching me, curiously gazing upward, when I suddenly moved to the ground, slithering from the trunk of the tree and running toward him. _Dammit._ I wasn't supposed to slither. As my opponent was faced right toward me, seemingly frozen to the ground, a look of shock on his face, I decided quickly that I would use Option 2. It was the easiest and most effective in this situation.

In a quick motion, the dagger was in his chest and his breaths quickly went from normal to fast and ragged. He made a rasping sound in his throat, his eyes rolling with delirious pain, then flopped to the ground like a dead fish. He seemed like he was wanting to speak, but no words came out of his mouth- the only thing that happened, in fact, was the endless moving of his jaw.

He seemed to be trying to say, "monster".

Soon, he was dead though, and I realized I had totally forgotten about the head injury part of the plan. Oh, well. He was gone already, so what did it matter? It wasn't like I cared about his demise. I looked coldly down at his dead body, the mask on my face quivering as I fought for breath. The mask, I remembered faintly, to keep anyone from recognizing me. The cannon tore through the air and I was filled with triumph.

 _One down, nine more to go._

There had been eleven tributes. Now there was ten. Nine would have to die. Then one would survive, and I would use him.

Also, I mused, District Seven had just lost their chance of winning this year..

 **A/N: The fact that I am cussing in a story when I don't in real life is incredible. xD But it's for the sake of the chapter.**

 **Qotd: What do you guys want for Christmas?**

 **Aotd: Books and slime supplies**

 **12/17/17**


	40. Blood and Air

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Twyla Zahavyin(D5 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

Alice Kimminger(D12 Female)

* * *

 _ **Jackson Winters(D12 Male)**_

Running. I was running. The ground was spinning. The sky was tilting. The waters and ocean and all the moisture in the air was fading away as sweat ran down my neck.

I was running.

I hadn't seen Alice in a long, long time. I didn't know if I ever would again. I had told her to run, but now, it seemed that she had run a _little_ too far.

I glared harshly at the ground, running a hand through my red hair. I had to find her, somehow. Otherwise, she might die. If she wasn't dead already... I cast this pessimistic thought from my head and clenched my fists, letting all the gloominess fly away as a powerful flash of determination raced through me. I had to find her. And I could, I just knew it. She wasn't dead yet, and she could survive. She wasn't at all weak...

The hours flew by; I could almost hear the clock ticking, could feel the time slipping away. I couldn't run anymore, I was literally tripping along, panting hard, every muscle burning. I had ran probably the whole forest, seeing that now I was in an entirely different place.

Here, the snow had lessened a bit, and it wasn't as hard to run. I could almost move fluidly now, and I could see small hints of the deep brown earth, shining pale, clear white on the top. Melting dew, I thought. A shaft of sunlight, from up above, broke through the trees, intent on melting everything and turning it all into...water? I was suddenly aware of the fact that my shoes were practically destroyed by the combination of water and soil.

I kept going, however. Even though ever inch of me was weak and I just wanted to stop, to take a break, I had to know Alice was alright. I knew she'd do the same for me if I were in trouble. All these thoughts racing through my head, they made me stronger, somehow. And with that strength, I kept going.

It was dark when I saw something out of the corner of my eye, the faint flicker of...hair? I pulled my jacket closer around me and squinted, hoping, praying the hair might be hers. It seemed darkened, like all the color had just...faded away. No light whatsoever, simply shadow, splotches of shadow to match the areas beneath the trees, next to the roots. Her ash blonde hair, normally so pale and gorgeous, was almost brown now. So close to her, only a few feet away..

My shoulders went down. I felt terrible. Absolutely. Terrible.

I swallowed the cold lump in my throat, tried not to reach up and rub my nose, which had basically melted to liquid. She was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. I shivered slightly, the hole in my heart growing by the second. _Gone._

 _Alice.._ I thought, too shocked to cry. And, because I had trained myself to be strong over the years. Now I wished my emotions were still within reach, that I could succumb to crying like a normal person.

 _Like a normal person._ I swallowed hard. _Normal person. Normal person._ **Normal person.**

Everything had become so much more enhanced, so much more terrible, now that this had happened. I couldn't hope anymore. Whatever determination which had appeared before, had vanished as quickly as it had came. Now, my shoulders slumped, my whole body felt like it could not stand any longer. I sat down on the snow, not caring how cold it was, numb to everything and anything around me.

I wished the sky could just be a shade darker. That it was such a clear, pale color made me angry. Why couldn't they all be grieving today? Why were they completely oblivious to the terrible things that were happening around me? Why were there no storm clouds- why were there no darkness, no pouring rain to suit my mood?

I sighed heavily. It was long and low, a desperation, a giving up.

Her ash blonde hair was dark with death, empty of life. It was splayed out on the ground, obviously not her own decision because she was usually so delicate, so careful. Her face, if it was possible, was even paler, her rich brown eyes never to open again.

I trembled. Drew in a long breath, felt the pushing at my throat, of tears struggling to escape.

 _Alice._

Only twelve years old. So young. She had never been able to experience life, to be an adult, to do anything. A spark of anger shot up and consumed me, and before I knew it, the tears were coming, a waterfall down my cheeks. I hadn't cried in so, so long. I had learned to control that kind of thing. But this unfairness, this was terrible. How anyone could be so cruel was beyond me. The Capitol. The Capitol. I hated, hated the Capitol.

The rest of the night was a blur of anger, sadness, grief, and pain, the kind of pain that tortures you because it starts from the inside, from your heart, then moves to the outside. Soon, though, I didn't know what I was crying about, the only thought that lingered was _Capitol._ The horribleness, the grief, disappeared, replaced by a fierce, hard hate I didn't know could ever be possible from a human. I wished I had been faster. I wished I had seen her, had rescued her, I would've gladly gave my own life to save hers.

 _Alice._

The name, it had been thrown too many times upon my mouth, tasted in my saliva: _Alice, I'm gonna go for a walk, is that fine?_ or _Alice, are you okay? You seem a little down_ or _Alice, are you coughing?_

It had no meaning anymore. It was just a word, a combination of echoes that taunted me, played again and again in my ears until I was covering them, but no. They were playing inside my head, a video that will never be paused.

 _Alice._

I wondered what had killed her, a kind of desperate curiosity, to at least know what I could unleash my hatred on. But..I was not one to consider revenge, and I felt it would be so character...I didn't know. I didn't know anymore, what I would do. My heart was too sore to think, I didn't know such grief was even possible.

I decided this: I would be quiet, I would be my usual mysterious self, even as I felt completely changed by this event. Nobody would ever suspect such a weakness, hopefully. I looked at her again, her dead body, that knot of anger in my chest expanded.. I closed my eyes tightly, the tension in my shoulders relaxed momentarily as I was overcome with a wash of calming, and peace.

She was beautiful, just like Alice. A ghost of her, I thought, reaching out without thinking. Her hair was a sooty color, though carrying a faint hint of blonde. Her footsteps rustled the grass beneath her lovely white slippers, something I thought she never could have worn when she was living. Her eyes were blazing bright. I felt hesitation glue me to the ground. Instinct told me: this was too good to be true. This was not real.

Then suddenly, she transformed into a cat, a sleek one, silky-furred and small. She had a fine-shaped head, sort of like a diamond, and her pelt was a creamy gray.

 _Alice._

The name fell through my mind, dropped into the air out of my parched mouth.

The cat, it circled me, meowing softly. Her ears flattened and she sat down, tilting her head, opening her mouth and revealing sharp white teeth.

I took a cautious step back, and the cat pounced.

It was strong, that was for sure. Its hind legs kicked off the ground in a flurry of snow and it landed on me. Surprise hit me, and a bit of anger for not being more suspicious, and in a flash, I crushed the cat's mouth to the ground, trying not to think that this was Alice. It opened its mouth, its innocent mud-colored eyes demanding sympathy.

Well, I wouldn't give it what it wanted.

I shoved the cat into the earth and, pinned down, it couldn't do anything. My bow arrows were useless against it from such a close distance, which meant I had to kill it...with my bare hands.

It was easier than I thought, crushing the breath out of the cat. My mind had detached from my body, and I barely recognized Alice anymore. It was like I had forgotten entirely what she looked like. This cat, this impostor, was not, would never be, her. _Because the real Alice is dead._

* * *

 **Wendigo - Neutral**

 _Neutral._ Such a pleasant word. Like, gray, just fading out into the background...nothing to worry about again, no sides to choose between..

I yawned, feeling like the morning described exactly that. It was pale, the sun stark in the sky. Neutral. A thought came to me; remembered Alice again. Tried to forget. Why did everybody always make such a big deal of deaths? It was just one more person- opponent- dying. Made you more likely to win.

I ran through my head everybody who was still in the Games, just to be sure my plans were all correct. Skyrah Labelle, pfft, it would be easy to get rid of her. She didn't have the sort of fighting spirit a normal Career had, and I knew it would be easy to trick her away from her allies, and then kill her.

Felix, I couldn't really tell. He had an odd kind of personality, something that was just normal and boring. No spark whatsoever, you could say he simply blended into the background. I would save him for last, just for my own entertainment and wanting to know more about him, if he had kept anything hidden away from the surface.

Calamity, District Three. I had many questions for her; for instance, how the hell did she still think she could continue surviving? Her ally was dead and she was alone. I had to admire her determination, though. It might be difficult killing her, because she had nothing to lose, here in this arena. I couldn't hold anyone hostage, because there _was no one to hold hostage._

Oh, well. I would deal with her later. She was, what, fifteen? She couldn't have been to hard to kill.

The last Career was Azurine, who at least had a good amount of determination and fight in her. She would definitely be one I would feel a little regret for killing. She was great with knives, I knew, and I needed someone who was great with knives. _Like Cameron._

Twyla- she had nothing to go back to, anyway. Get rid of her first, was my plan. I would feel the least regret.

Cornell, Cameron's ally. Should I leave him there or should I kill him now? He would protect Cameron, making sure he didn't get killed, which was exactly what I needed. I decided I would let him live for a little while, see how useful he could prove to be.

Elisabeth...she was a bit of a cliche, typical volunteer for your sister type of thing. Definitely going to be dead the same day as Twyla.

And Jackson. He had escaped me once, he wouldn't escape me again. He had penetrated my pride and now he would pay dearly for it, whether he knew it or not. I growled, the low sound rumbling deep in my throat. I would aim for him, Twyla, and Elisabeth first. Then, my plan could be set into motion, once every tribute was dead- except Cameron.

* * *

 _ **Elisabeth Bronzebrook(D11 Female)**_

Voices spun around and around in my head, echoes bouncing off one another, as if I were standing inside an empty cave. A snarl: _Stupid girl. Don't you dare blame my little, sweet Rosie!_ I buried my face in my hands, regret burning in my throat. What was I doing? I couldn't fight...and if I survived until the end, I didn't want to face the final battle... I didn't want to die.

These days, the memories were coming, fiercer and harsher than ever. I was trying my best to block them out, but it was so very, very hard. All my life I had bit my tongue, did whatever my stepmother asked me to. But now, I had freedom- not the kind of freedom I wanted. For Rosie, I was in these Games. I had to survive, for Rosie.

I let in a deep, shuddering breath and felt the stinging of my eyes evaporate, as the happier memories were recalled.

"Elisabeth?" Twyla's voice was soft, filled with sympathy that didn't exactly fit with her personality. I knew her as strong, tough, willing to fight through anything to get back home. And she was so much like me, she understood, because she had faced a stepmother who had done awful things to her, as well.

I looked up into her fierce eyes, trying to swallow that lump in my throat, the weight of the Games pouring down on me. I felt the familiar shyness hit me, the kind that made me not know what to say, as I stood there, my mind blank.

"Twyla..." I whispered.

Twyla's eyes narrowed, she seemed to instantly read my mind and said, "You know, 'lisabeth, you just have to forget. Forgive and forget. Well, probably not that forgiving part, but at least let go... Don't make the bad memories win. That's what they want, right? So if we survive until the end, we'll prove them all wrong." She smiled, a bitter one, filled with sarcasm. "And when we come back...we'll get to see the looks on their faces when they realize you're bringing back prizes, food, a lifetime filled with riches."

"Would you?" I mumbled.

Twyla tilted her head. "Would I what?"

"Would you give the riches to your family, your stepmom? Or would you just keep it yourself?" I questioned. It was such a difficult question, but it was what good people would do. Forgive, and hopefully mend all the hatred which had taken place all those years ago.

Twyla's expression changed to one of longing, a wistfulness that I too felt in my very bones. "I wish things could be different," she said, looking as if she were unsure of her own words. "I wish I could take everyone from this arena, even the Careers, back home with me, because at least they're better than what I have at home, what I would have to face alone.

"I guess...I would let them have some of it. Even if I think they might not deserve that, it's the best way to fix things. I won't go back home and show off, no, I'll share it, and hopefully they'll share some of their love too."

"So you're saying you love them?" I blurted out.

"Not exactly. I mean, who could love them after all that? But I think if I forgive them, maybe they'll be kinder to me. It doesn't work to fight hatred with hatred, Elisabeth." She shook her head sadly. "I hope, though, if I don't win, that you will. Then I can follow you, in spirit, for the rest of your life. We're so young..we don't deserve to die."

I nodded understandingly. "Yeah..."

I was lost in thought when a shadow blocked the entrance to our camp. My eyes widened and I let out a scream without even knowing it. Twyla moved beside me, her fingers already around a spear. "What is it?"

I tensed as the shadow moved closer. I still couldn't make out what exactly it was. Then, as the light fell over it through the cracks in the trees, I realized whoever it was, was not any of the other tributes. The shadow was giant, tall and menacing, taller even than the Careers.

"Who is it?" Twyla shouted, shouldering me aside. I squinted into the darkness and saw a figure come into view.

A low laugh, soft and eerie, poured out of the opening. I cringed.

Suddenly Twyla was knocked to the ground and dead, her throat slit open with a slashing red mark. I screamed, hearing myself loud and crystal-clear.

Then I was on the ground too, and I felt a scary ripping in my neck. The pain was horrible, coming in relentless waves, and I suddenly tasted something thick in my mouth, globs of it against my tongue. I spat it out, realizing it was red...dark red.

Blood.

My throat, it hurt, I gagged, not able to speak, my jaw moving, my breath cutting off. My chest felt terrible, it felt like all the pain in the world was coming against me, and I was struggling to take in air. I gasped as my throat suddenly tightened, my windpipe broken. I tried frantically to breath, rasping heavily, but it was no use.

I took in a breath, mouthfuls of blood staining my teeth.

I couldn't let it out.

 **1/2/18**

happy new year


	41. Final 7 Interviews

**You can bid now! Just say in the reviews: I bid blahblahblah points on (tribute). For instance, I bet 70 points that Felix will win! Or something.**

 **STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

* * *

 _ **Skyrah Labelle**_

The Labelles were definitely strange, I- Zinci Morlivsko, the most famous fashion designer in the world- observed as I stepped into the room. Or maybe, it was just their clothes, how they were so plainly dull compared to my own sparkly dress. I'd made sure to pick her best one that morning, just for the occasion, and now it felt like it was being all put to waste. Even my worst clothing combo was better than their ragged, depressed outfits, I couldn't help thinking.

Hammod Labelle, Skyrah's father, had her large brown eyes. He looked very tense and rigid next to relaxed Charmane, the mom. Overall, I could hardly imagine them being a couple; they seemed like polar opposites. I wondered how exactly I could interview two completely different people at the same time; usually I was trained to act based on one personality.

"Please, sit down," Charmane spoke quietly, her mouth barely moving, face blank. I could see the glowing, fierce light of hope in her eyes though. _Very_ inspirational.

I nodded to both of them as I took a seat on one of the hard, straight-backed chairs. It was so uncomfortable, the edges cut roughly, so unlike the ones back at the Capitol, where every angle was rounded, and covered in tons of silk pillows.

"So, what would you say was your first reaction to finding out that Skyrah had survived this far?" I asked conversationally, trying to get them to ignore the large microphones pointed at their faces.

Charmane paused, glancing at Hammod. "Astonishment," the latter said calmly, not meeting her hazel gaze.

"And?" I inquired, willing them to speak up.

Hammod clenched his fists. "It was absolutely incredible, we had never imagined she could get so far. We would like her to win, very, very much and- we are so proud of her," he answered solemnly. Charmane nodded beside her husband, her sweet nature easily overlooked by the cameras.

"Why do you want her to win?" I asked, a smile softening the words. "Do you have some special reason besides gaining riches?"

Charmane replied this time with, "We need the money. I have- it's complicated." She shook her head.

"I have more than enough time to listen to your story. Please, continue," I nodded respectfully.

Hammod's glare was sharp against the back of Charmane's head as she said quickly and with force, "We have laid a curse on our family- the traditions..-, that can only be lifted if- at least, I think- if we can use this money to start a new life, somewhere else." Her stutter was amusing.

Hammod cut in, "It _is_ complicated. You see, apparently she blames me and our family tradition, and her plan is to _abandon me and take our daughters, once Skyrah wins and they have the money, away from the 'curse'._

"It isn't a curse," he argued, "it's tradition. You just don't understand that, don't you? You don't see how important it is?"

"Well, when I married you, I had no idea of this 'tradition'," she shouted. "To ensure my daughters' safety and their freedom, I need to take them away."

I blinked. "This appears to be some kind of secret- Hammod, how exactly did you find out of your wife's plan?"

His fingers curled in angrily. "I overheard her talking about it one night, in her sleep."

"I can't control what I say in my sleep!" Charmane groaned, pressing her palms to her ears. "Can't you understand that? You never know- it might've just been some crazy dream I had."

"It is _not_ a crazy dream," Hammod growled.

"Er- settle down, please," I interrupted. "Hammod, when did you hear her say it in her sleep?"

"Only a few days ago, after the Games had begun," he responded swiftly.

"And Charmane? What have you to say to defend yourself?" I purred.

She glared furiously. "All of this is a lie!" she exclaimed. "Why do you have to follow your stupid traditions? Can't we just make our own life, do what we want to do, not what your ancestors did a million years ago?"

"What are your family traditions, anyway?" Another question.

"First of all," Hammod began, "every four years, a member of the family has to volunteer for the Games. Also, every female is assigned a lover at an early age by the father, whom they eventually will marry and have children with." He nodded curtly.

"That's all?" I raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't seem..too bad."

"Yes," he grunted.

I ended with some more questions, overall thinking this was really weird how they had "traditions". Besides, the traditions didn't even seem all too bad. Surely the "lover" he was talking about was at least someone okay. It might be a bit forceful and unfair, but not enough to make someone run away, in my opinion. And the thing about a member of the family having to volunteer for the Games...I laughed at that. Look how well Skyrah was doing! Why should they be worried? If this tradition hadn't been there, then Skyrah wouldn't have volunteered, leading to zero chance of riches.

Zero.

* * *

 _ **Felix Saunders**_

Felix's family seemed a bit boring to me. They didn't have this weird, spooky, cool curse or anything, and they were a bit quiet as well. It was so difficult getting anything out of them, and I barely remembered any of the conversation. At least the previous, nervous-making argument had been interesting, attention-capturing. But this: just..no.

"What chance do you think Felix has of winning?" I questioned.

They just looked extremely wary of all the cameras pointed at them.

Felix's mother, tall like him, with grayish green eyes, peered widely at us. "Who are you?" she inquired sharply, looking down her long nose at me and my sparkly dress. Suddenly I felt a bit uncomfortable, like I was bragging to them or something.

"I'm Zinci Morlivsko, a Capitol fashion designer, perhaps one of the most famous in the world," I answered proudly.

The only reaction Felix's mom gave was that of an unimpressed woman who desperately wanted to leave.

"And you?" I asked, even though I knew her name already.

"Sierra Saunders," she replied curtly. "And this is my husband, Jack."

"Hello, Jack and Sierra," I said. "So, what is your answer to my previous question?"

"Excuse me?" Jack squinted at us.

"I mean, the question I asked before: What chance do you think Felix has of winning?" I repeated.

"We have complete confidence in him," Jack beamed. Sierra nodded, glowing eyes fixed on me in a sort of challenging way.

I cleared my throat, looking back down at my clipboard. "Ah, next question then."

* * *

 _ **Calamity Astrea**_

I knew her parents both worked in a lab, and it certainly looked like it as I sat in a chair across from them. They were both wearing lab coats underneath their normal, dull clothing, and their pockets were filled with...strange stuff that I couldn't name.

"What was your reaction to when Calamity was reaped?" I asked my first question, hoping they would be better at replying than Felix's family.

Calamity's father, who looked basically just like her, shook his head, his eyes going far away. "It was terrible," he said in a faint, watery voice. "It was like.. Like..the sky has fallen on top of us, and we have no way of climbing out from underneath. We had no hope, whatsoever, we thought she was going to die."

The mother nodded; I could see tears sparkling in her eyes. "Horrible..It was horrible...," she murmured sadly. Then the corners of her mouth lifted a little and she said, "I don't know how she has survived this long in the arena, yes, we have seen her in the videos but.. But... After that monster appeared in one of the clips, our hope, it sort of just..went away, again." She let in a deep, shuddering breath.

I swore I just fell off my chair at that moment. "A..monster?"

Calamity's mother nodded fervently, "Yes, medium-sized with cruel eyes, the color of, I don't know, blue smoke? There were a few shots of him. He killed Spruce, remember? And he indirectly killed little Alice."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I forced myself to say, even as I knew _exactly_ who she meant. Wendigo, who had been in prison, got out, managed to get a position as mentor for Murray, then disappeared again. His crimes were terrible, he had actually gotten away the first time, into the outer Districts, before being captured again.

Calamity's father shook his head. "Forget it. I know it's something of the Capitol's that you just won't tell us about." He blinked wearily.

"I swear, I know nothing about it!" I exclaimed, the lies burning my throat.

"Yes, you do." Calamity's mother's gaze was hollow, filled with bitter triumph and exhaustion. "Think, Zinci. Do you remember any monsters in Capitol history?"

My tongue felt numb. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I do know one."

* * *

 _ **Azurine Bahari**_

"So you are the adopted parents of Azurine?" I asked. They both nodded yes.

"They" was a mom, a dad, and an adopted brother, who had insisted on coming. The three people looked nothing like Azurine, who was short, olive-skinned, and had dark hair, as opposed to pale and blonde.

"And I believe you are a previous Hunger Games victor?" I questioned to the brother professionally.

He smiled, revealing teeth filled with metal braces only someone rich could afford. "Yes," he confirmed. "I won the 33rd Hunger Games, three years ago." I let the camera zoom in on his grin, knowing that at least half the Capitol girls would _probably_ be swooning over him. They did with any male Victor, so it was predictable, anyway.

"You must have high expectations of your sister winning," I assumed.

He nodded, an admittance he wasn't afraid of sharing. "Yes, and is there any wrong in that, I wonder? Most individuals would think expecting someone to win is somehow against the law." A challenging glint entered his eye as his shoulders lifted. "After all, she has received the exact same training as me, and if I won, she should too."

"What about you two?" I said to the parents, inclining my head toward them respectfully. "Do you expect her to win as well?"

"Of course," Azurine's mom replied, with a raising of the eyebrows. "Although.." Her gaze narrowed and she let out a strange kind of croaking-laugh. "She is so small, so weak in training. I am afraid I have several doubts about her, but perhaps she will surpass my uncertainties." It was clear she thought otherwise.

"My opinions are still the same about her, and that is an immense wall of guilt. Why, you might ask? Well, that is because I believe we did not train her enough, and that we should've pushed her harder. I know she always thinks we are too harsh on her, but it's what she needs to win," the father added in a very refined voice.

I nodded, "Mmm. Makes sense. You talk very sensibly in this matter."

"I wouldn't want anyone accusing me on nonsense," the father said gravely.

I smiled warmly. "I believe our viewers would not blame you of such things after hearing your quite logical statement."

He gave a small grunt.

I checked my watch, the very cool spinning one I had gotten for my birthday last year. It had a ton of different spinning arrows that seemed extremely random, until you realized the half second that they paused was the time. It took me a second to wait for the revolving lines to stop, in which it pointed at approximately 11:31am.

"It is time for me to go, I'm afraid. I hope you two have the best of summers, and your daughter the most wonderful 'winter'."

* * *

 _ **Cameron Bordeaux**_

"Hello, Dan- Kyla," I greeted, noting they were the mirror images of Cameron. "Welcome, welcome."

Dan gave a tense smile through his teeth. "Thank you, er- excuse me for asking- but what's your name again?"

"Zinci, Zinci Morlivsko," I answered, trying to make the couple be at ease. Currently, Kyla, Cameron's mom's lower lip was twitching so hard I was actually surprised there were no tears running down her face already.

"Kyla, are you okay? I know it is horrible to watch your twelve-year-old son volunteer, but surely there is some good in it? After all, he has come so far, you can't give up hope now." I didn't want to say that maybe she had never had hope to begin with.

Her only response was a long sniffle and pressing her hand to her eyes in anguish.

"Please, relax. I am only trying to help." I was at a loss of what to say as I gazed into her heartbroken face. I had never even experienced horror and sadness, anyway. I mean, if you counted roller coaster rides when I was younger... But still, my family was all healthy and none of my relatives had ever died in my lifetime. I barely knew _grief._

A bit angered that they had left me to deal with _this_ , I said quickly, "Why not, um, leave us now? It seems you need to- rest and think it over."

She shivered for a second, her eyes welling up again, then bit her lip and said determinedly, "No, I..can manage."

I continued on with the interview. It was a bit boring because Kyla kept crying, and I couldn't make her feel better, but everything else was okay. I asked them their reactions to Cameron volunteering and they all responded with looks of horror, and of slight amazement he had made it into the final seven.

It was definitely a very nice, friendly family, however, and they definitely cared about their son a lot.

* * *

 _ **Cornell Wheaton**_

I expressed much sympathy when I saw Cornell's family. His mother was basically a figure of depression, and his father had recently fell very ill. It was all so horrible and I couldn't believe something so bad could happen to a family. I wished they could receive care at the Capitol, where his father would definitely recover due to better medical developments.

I was totally rooting for Cornell by the time I was finished with the interview. They just seemed so sad and poor, and I longed to help them out. If he won, he would have enough money to pay for his treatment. That was so much better reason than just pure ambition and the need to prove oneself.

His father was so sick he had to stay in bed while I conducted the interview, and his mother was pretty non-talkative, simply gazing off into the distance, where perhaps a better world thrived than her own. Her children, siblings of Cornell, mainly did the talking, explaining about the loss of Grayn and how the event had made their mother so depressed.

The interview was short, mainly because I wanted to sit in a corner and just bawl my eyes out for them. I felt like I was in a real life movie, one of those dramas you see on television that are so, so sad. But, another reason was because by the end of their explanations, Prairie was already out of breath and required a moment to recover. I instead offered to leave, so that they could help her out and she wouldn't be too panicked with me around- plus of course the cameras. They accepted very gratefully.

* * *

 _ **Jackson Winters**_

Jackson I felt sorry for as well, but not as much as Cornell. After all, the kid had nothing to return home to, except his evil parents who constantly beat him, day by day, until he was covered in bruises. No doubt, if he won the money, they would be even crueler to him, out of unsatisfied jealousy.

Their evilness was apparent by the very first thing they said, a reply to my question, "What are the chances you think Jackson will get home alive?"

His mother's lip curled in an expression of utmost disgust, and she spat out, in one sharp, voice of hoarseness, "Honestly, I hope the little brat will be shipped home to us for his funeral. I never want to see him again, and I'm glad he is getting what he deserves."

Well. Okay, then.

"What exactly is so bad about him that you speak of him in such a way?" I asked very quietly.

She snorted. "He depends on us so much, thinks that just because he is related to us, we must help him survive and feed him every day. Honestly! He is lucky he even still lives beneath _our_ roof, which we have paid for with our _own_ money. He deserved to be let out into the wild, have a taste of what the real, bitter world is like." Her eyes narrowed until they were just mere slits above her sharp, crooked nose. " _Nothing_ is free, not a cent."

I didn't really know what to say to that so I just muttered an, "Okay."

"Yes, my wife is right," the father said solemnly. "He should not take things for granted and that is why we treat him this way. I don't know why every other parent in the world is so nice to their children, because they don't deserve it at all."

 _Maybe it's because they have the right idea and you don't,_ I thought with a huff.

"I suppose," I concluded, not wanting to make them angry because I had seen what they could do.

A fire stoked in his eye and he flashed back, "I can tell you don't believe us. Nobody believes us! Everyone is too soft, just one look at those cute little eyes and they'll give anything the child wants to them. Well, we can actually see beyond that, to how spoiled they are on the inside, what they demand of us. And we will put a stop to it by refusing to give them what they desire."

* * *

 **1/14/17**

 **a/n: i hate this chapter tbh**


	42. Death and Depression

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)

Felix Saunders(D2 Male)

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

* * *

 ** _Skyrah Labelle(D1 Female)_**

sky-rah: _The name **Skyrah** originated as an English name. The name **Skyrah** is most often used as a girl name or female name. In English, the name **Skyrah** means - eternal life, strength, love, and beauty. English Name **Meaning** \- eternal life, strength, love, and beauty._

It was midnight on the seventh...eighth...(I had completely lost count) day, when I felt completely terrible. A wave of fatigue just crashed over me and yet, I couldn't sleep: so I went on a walk, to get some fresh air. It was cold outside, the air crisp and sharp. The spinning of my head slowed a moment as I breathed in the coolness of Outside.

And that's when I saw "Wendigo".

I had heard rumors, sure, but rumors cannot suffice for this wrongness I felt as my eyes landed on him, the shiver of fear that slid down my back. I wondered, for a brief moment, _Am I going to die?_ It was terrifying.

It had been kind of an "unspoken terror", I guess. If one mentioned it, we would all pretend we knew nothing about it, even as we listened to the rumors. Rumors are not easily spread in the Hunger Games, as we are all enemies among ourselves, but they are still spread nonetheless. We had spies stationed all around the forest and so we heard plenty of things, one being that Dahlia had received a letter from some person named "Mia". Another, from the same person, to Dahlia but found by Twyla.

We knew Mia was being forced to work for Wendigo, but what his motive was no one knew. He probably knew some kind of secret of theirs...and was threatening her with it: that was my theory, at least. Someone poor had nothing else to lose but their reputation, after all.

He said nothing for a second, standing very, very still. Then his chilling voice, like ice, cracked the silence, and I felt myself freeze. It was like I was rising from the earth, my spirit coming to God, the ground paling beneath me as the wind dashed up my hair. The grass went silver, the sky became tainted golden moonlight. I was almost sure that I would not survive tonight. Wendigo had already killed so many people.

He said in this voice, "Well, well, look who we have here...A pleasure to meet you, Skyrah."

I bit my lip hard, felt terror bolt my feet to the ground. I was shaking from head to toe, all my wits had left me.

He raised an eyebrow and I mustered, "H-hello..." in a very quavery voice.

He said quietly, "Won't you ask what everyone asks at first sight, ' _How are you here, it's not allowed_ '?"

I felt faint. So he was going to draw out my death? "Oh, please, make it go quick..." My voice trailed off into an incoherent rasp.

"My, I didn't know I had this kind of impact," Wendigo stroked his chin, thinking. "You're a smart girl, that is for sure, if your first thought is that you will be dead by tomorrow. Which, you will, if you're having second thoughts or whatever."

"You're not allowed here," I said, trying to sound firm. "The cameras are watching."

"Oh, yes, the cameras are watching, but who can catch me? I might be trapped in this arena but that doesn't mean they can capture me without interfering. And that would be major hypocrisy, hmm? They'll have to wait until we have initiated a victor...and by then I'll be long gone."

"Why are you telling me all of this? Aren't you afraid I might, well, report to someone?" I threatened, though it wasn't much of a threaten because I was shaking all over.

"As I said, you'll be dead in a matter of minutes. So, breathe in your last breath of life, and say goodbye." He said this so solemnly I wasn't sure whether to cry or laugh.

Then I found myself feeling like my heart was splintering to pieces, like I couldn't keep myself standing any longer. My tongue felt abnormally dry and I was suddenly sweating; my throat closed up against words.

"I.." I swallowed, letting out a rasp, trying to take in air, feeling dizziness all around and hyperventilating.

Wendigo cursed. "Don't make me feel sorry for this," he growled. My vision became blurred as tears trailed down my cheeks, the thought of dying lurking at the edge of my mind. Even my strong disapproval of foul language couldn't last through this.

With my last burst of willpower, I lifted my chin and said, in a weirdly calm tone, "You won't win. You're a monster."

Anger ignited, his pool eyes blazing, he lifted an axe over his head, then, my eyes widening at the great force behind it, let it fall. I ran just then, coming to my senses, but he caught me at once, throwing the axe into my back. I felt a breaking of something, the rip and shred of fabric and hard bone. _Snap._ Pain made all other senses flee me, only that I was burning, and something warm lingered at the edge of my tongue...

 _Goodbye._

And a laugh. A sheer brutal laugh.

* * *

 _ **Felix Saunders(D2 Male)**_

fe-li-cks: _From a Roman cognomen **meaning** "lucky, successful" in Latin. It was acquired as an agnomen, or nickname, by the 1st-century BC Roman general Sulla. It also appears in the New Testament belonging to the governor of Judea who imprisoned Saint Paul._

When Skyrah didn't come back, I got worried. First I told myself that maybe she was stressed out and needed some time to herself. But then, when seven hours had passed, with no sign of her anywhere, my fear mounted.

"Azurine..," I began, but she just nodded simply, unable to disguise the concern in her normally hard and emotionless eyes.

I set out at once, with a pack weighing down my back. The snow crunched near my shoes and my fists were clenched. I was ready for anything, feeling that hard doubt in the back of my head, that pessimistic worry..

I shook my head, no. If I had not seen her dead yet, there was still a chance. Quickening my pace, I hurried along the path where I had seen her depart on after a night of restlessness. I too was tired, and constantly moved my hands over to rub my eyes, desiring water more than anything so I could at least give it a good rinse. But we never used it for these kinds of luxuries, only for the essentials, like keeping ourselves hydrated day by day.

There was a clearing to the right of me, and I at first thought, why would she go in there? Then, thinking I ought to check now that I had come so far, I entered slowly and cautiously. There was no one to be seen, just the singing wind rustling the leaves of the trees and the haunting glow of pale sun.

I didn't know why I was doing this. Usually, I would just stay out of trouble if I could, but this seemed a serious situation and so I had to investigate.

Thing was, I was completely wrong. I didn't know that that one little decision to walk into the clearing would cost me my life.

My death was a quick one. I felt it through another's eyes, like I was a ghost hovering over me in third person. A roar sounded and then a crash; I barely felt it as I as flung to the ground. Looking up, I saw burning eyes alight through the darkness. I began to slowly crawl back, my pulse quickening..

I felt an epilepsy attack hit me, and I didn't know what to do, because I couldn't do anything. I lost conscious immediately, through that wondering what exactly might happen and forgetting Skyrah entirely. And that was it. I never felt anything afterward, because I never regained consciousness.

* * *

 _ **Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)**_

ka-la-mede: _an event causing great and often sudden damage or distress; a disaster_

Secretly, I was plotting something. The plan wasn't anything special, but it would help me to get past all those allied people, especially the Careers, whom there were still three people left. They all thought I was weak after the loss of my allies, but they were wrong, very wrong indeed. Sure, I had mourned them the first few days, felt the utter lack of hope, but then? A plan had quietly stirred inside the deep recesses of my soul...only to grow, until I had no choice but to follow it.

* * *

 _ **Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)**_

azure-een: _sky-blue_

I truly felt concern when Skyrah went missing, as opposed to what most people might think. I felt terrible about myself, that others thought me a monster, even as I knew I deserved it. Why couldn't I just be a normal person? Why did my thirst for approval conquer everything, even those I loved? Instead of creating an alliance through friendship, I had created one through fear. I didn't want this. Mark, Algar, Persefone, and maybe Skyrah were dead. Who next?

I felt an apprehension, the thought coming to me that maybe I was next, a revenge to all the sins I had committed.

Everyone thought I was lying. And I was lying, kind of. But now, maybe I could try to be good. Try to correct all that was wrong, even as my impatience grew.

My temper was just too much, I reflected. And sometimes, it could lead to me doing terrible things, terrible things that were beyond correction. But, I had also done what needed to be done, and this satisfaction, this brutal satisfaction made me sick inside.

I had done what needed to be done, and that was kill.

I put my head down on the ground, absently tapping my finger against the soil, thinking about all my faults, and how I could correct them so that maybe when I got home, I would not be seen as someone with no emotions, someone who had tried proving herself and had it all go wrong.

* * *

 _ **Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)**_

cam-err-in: _The name originates from the Scottish surname **Cameron**. In the Scottish Highlands the surname is thought to be derived from the Gaelic cam sròn, **meaning** "crooked nose" or "crooked river"; in the Scottish Lowlands the name is thought to be derived from a form of Norman baronial name—from Cambernon, in Normandy._

I brushed my finger against the blade of my knife, feeling its cool power surge through me. It was kind of terrifying, but also made me feel safe to have this protection, to have this skill. I dug it into the ground, letting it halt near the handle and letting out a sigh. Sometimes, I didn't even know what I was doing; but that didn't mean I let doubt come over me. I still strove to look for the good in things.

I thought of Six, I thought of my family. And that homesickness grew every time my thoughts lay on them.

That night, when I saw the colors, the lights flash up into the sky, they sent me bolt upright, all my happiness coming into place even as my soul inside was ever depressed. I didn't think it was right to be happy that there were more people gone from the Games- in fact, my sadness became enhanced, but all the same, that meant I had a better chance of winning.

"Cornell," I spoke softly, hoping he wouldn't wake up all groggy and grumpy.

His eyes opened and he climbed slowly to his feet. "Yeah?" he said in a hoarse voice from sleep.

"Look." I nodded to the lights above. I wondered who had killed them, or what had been the cause of their deaths, because the two figures shining in the sky were both Careers, difficult to kill. And they were good Careers, too. I had hoped it was Azurine, to be honest. She had killed so many and I strongly felt she didn't deserve to live.

"Skyrah and Felix," Cornell echoed my thoughts. "Dead." His voice shook at the last word.

I nodded, trying to think optimistically. "Think on the bright side...that means we have better chance of winning. The top five, Cornell! I can't believe it!...oh. Yeah, I know.." My urging came to a stop as I saw the trouble reflected in his eyes. "It's terrible, but we have to accept that it happens. I'm so sorry they died, they were amazing people.. but still, you can't let that bring you down, especially in these times."

Cornell nodded, giving me a grateful smile. "Thanks, Cameron," he said, in what I would've described sadness beyond relief. I too felt a twinge in my heart, but death had long not surprised me any more. I had adjusted to it fine, but that didn't mean Cornell was the same. I had to help, though. That was what allies were for.

 **A/N: yawn**

 **1/20/17**


	43. It's a Deal

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

 **YOU CAN BID! :)**

* * *

 _ **Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)**_

So, my plan. It was quite simple, if I were to be honest. Basically, I would stay in hiding for as long as I could, until it was down to the last two or three. I would move every day to a different place, to ensure that nobody would find me.

Too simple for me, I thought with a little rustle of annoyance. I wished I had some of those super complicated extraordinary ideas but my little brain was kind of hopeless in these situations. And, especially that I was in all this danger- it was difficult for me to keep my temper.

I resulted in doing something simple, something efficient, which came to present time. Though, it was pretty lonely, I had to admit. I was used to having people around, people to talk to so boredom didn't stretch far. I tried not to think about it...however hard it was, the rush of homesickness that came over me whenever I even mentally concentrated on the number Three.

My days were pretty much automatic now. Wake up, eat, drink, do my daily scouting around for good places to move to, which took about an hour, gather food, eat lunch if I was successful(however my appetite never seemed to come up), and practice fighting. Fighting...basically stunk. There was just something about using a weapon that didn't latch in my mind, becoming all confusing whenever these spare times happened- especially the sword or the bow. For one, the sword was something that required tremendous strength(I wasn't strong), and for another...it was just the plain notion of killing people that struck me greater than any other living force could. I just hadn't the heart to really kill someone, despite all my confidence on the outside. It was the deepest thing I dreaded, that I would be put in a situation between defending myself and having to kill, or dying from this annoying weakness. The same reasons applied to the bow; I had always thought maybe I would be a natural at it, and I had even crafted a few simple ones of sticks in the arena. But, the moment my hands lay on a real one, I knew it was just too heavy for me to lift, to pull back, release without a doubt. Surely I would be thinking thoughts of death, souls, and departing, and I wouldn't be able to get the arrow out in time before reason number two showed its full power.

I kicked a stone, watching it roll, roll, roll across the ground before it tumbled to a stop, landing in a ditch somewhere in the snow. I plucked it off the ground, letting each shadow be illuminated by some of the faint sunlight that bounced off the glowering snow and released a blinding glow. It was a simple rock, plain gray, no other remarkable features but feeling slightly damp to the touch and... Damp!

I stood up, straight, right away, my eyes growing wide with the realization that clicked in my brain. This rock definitely carried some kind of water, whether it had been hours ago and dried or just a tiny bit from a minute ago. And it wasn't the kind of water that came from melting snow- because here, in the arena, snow never melted! Water was extremely scarce because most froze up, and to find one in a slightly warmer area was worth a fortune.

I ran out at once, feeling the first breath of springtime and happiness come to me, a rebirth of determination which sent my heart skipping. I let my thoughts float like clouds amongst the air, let them gather into dreams; why, I hadn't dreamed in so long! And it was so good to finally let my head scatter, to let the worries be replaced by just a quiet, happy buzzing. I dared to think what might happen if I won, and all because this lucky encounter! I pressed the rock into my pocket, next to the tiny, jabbing silver hairpin from Mother.

I let in a slow, soft breath, the crisply cold air burning my throat. But now, it tasted of freedom, of good fortune, and I let in several breaths of that happiness before my eyes began to stream uncontrollably. It was natural of course- not really something I could control- but my hands went up to my face at the same time, scraping away the few droplets of water that dared to get past my eyes.

It was almost like I had lost that snippy, sassy part of me, the part that was fun, loving, and, I had to admit, also immature. I hadn't talked to the world in so long, lost communication to anyone but myself, and now it was difficult to come up with a sarcastic phrase. I let my tongue roll over all the tiny insults which had gathered in their shadows and spoke to myself in a rigid voice, "Yes, self, this really _is_ happening, and you can get it together before you cause more trouble- which, would be your own fault of course when trouble comes from happiness."

But I _couldn't_ afford to be pessimistic, and soon my testings of my voice turned to bold, happy declarations, starting from, "With a source of water, which I bet no one else has, I can win! Easily!" My bottle of the liquid was almost drained, my tongue felt parched, dry from talking. But with the prospect of water, I didn't need to contain my words. I could let them all spill out without a concern.

My words ended approximately when I said, "Yet, you never know, maybe this is all a dream and I'm just being silly."

Not exactly the best turn of thoughts.

I ran the rest of the way, smelling water on the constantly blowing wind that made me cold on the outside. Sweat ran through my hair in waves, and soon I was panting, in need, yet again, of water. But exhilaration took over the thirst and all I could feel was faintly happy, a happiness that could not be quenched by anything anymore.

"Water!" I cried out, feeling that something was coming, another presence on the breeze. It was definitely the smell of water, and a great deal of it, too. But what else? My mind ran through every possible retrospect yet I couldn't come up with something I had done wrong in the past few hours. Sure, I had sort of spoken aloud, but that was because I needed to refresh my voice, tell myself I was still on this planet and not just a face, a name, and a drifting mind.

It was blue, a curving, beautiful blue color which should've made my heart stop but didn't. I was practically faint but I forced myself to keep going, saliva gathering in my mouth from the thought of sweet, refreshing _water_. It glistened, waves turning over and over again in a beauty unable to describe, streaking across a long, narrow strip of land, contained within a little valley of sorts. It ended abruptly on one side, the side I came from, but on the other, it winded down the hill, through the forest and ending in a metallic sparkle in the distance.

I unscrewed the cap to my water bottle, my hands dry and raw- a red color that reminded me of a certain wire..I couldn't place it anymore but...oh, whatever! It was water! I filled up my bottle until it couldn't possibly hold anymore and then downed the whole thing, panting for breath. I dunked it into the stream again another time, saving this one so I could just taste that amazing, fresh feeling on my tongue, the sweetness which is indescribable as it is not artificial sugar but something that has come from Nature itself...

And then yet again, just as my happiness was starting to bloom, he came, someone who I couldn't recognize at first, then regretted thinking of who he was because the name I knew was not one I wanted to see. _Wendigo._ A fierce, scary name, one that came from mythological, a creature which was to be feared by all. I had read about this character in books, and seen the actual person in countless drawings. He had been featured in _Top 10 Present-Day Criminals, Wendigo: A Human Beast,_ and _What To Do When You See A Villain(Examples Inside)._

Number One was already out of the question from the list in the third book. It was, plainly: **Fight.**

Well obviously I could not fight! I had mentioned it before and I would mention it again; fighting as not something to do with me. I respectfully leaned out of its angry rules, and it avoided me. Besides, if I was given the choice between fighting and running, I would, completely and utterly and, if I had to be honest with myself, cowardly, _run._

I did so right now, even as my feet felt frozen to the basis of the ground. I was above average in running, to judge myself. I had a lot of stamina and my speed was fast when I wanted it to be. This all was completely for running and against fighting- as I ran, I felt a sense of despair that I wasn't following the author's instructions.

He caught up with me immediately, anyway, like he had all the power in the world. He was average, though he had looked tall at first, and was definitely strong, though it wasn't entirely noticeable by any means. He flipped me to the ground and I grunted, rolling to my feet in one motion, my hands clenching, breath coming in heaves.

"Now look who we have here... A thief. I'm not too fond of those, how about you? This is my water and my supply is not to be drained by anyone else. I do admit, I might have scattered a couple loose stones by the river when I was walking- they do get stuck in my feet, you know, but it doesn't matter, because you have fallen right into my beautifully laid out trap." He folded his arms and attempted at a smug grin.

"Yes," I said, gritting my teeth and flashing back sarcastically, "I'm rather fond of _thieves_ and I thought you would too; they're the most excellent things in the world." My eyes narrowed infinitesimally with anger.

"Well I would predict," he said with a startling laugh, and it wasn't sharp, or cruel...it was just, normal. Perhaps this was his actual personality; maybe he didn't have to pretend around me, for some reason, when, in books, he had been depicted as a total liar, someone who had no pity and no optimism. "You are a thief yourself and you ought to be sorry."

"Well I'm not sorry, and no one can force me to be," I hissed, quite boldly, if I do say so myself. His eyebrows shot up and he chuckled once more, a slow, rumbling one.

"I'm not usually happy inside, Calamity, you should know that. You're looking back at your books, aren't you? Well, you should suspect me to be the most _pessimistic soul in the world_." He said this all with a grave pride which set my nerves on end.

"I do suspect you to be the most pessimistic soul in the world," I said, an icy bite to my words that might've came from prejudice about villains- and the like.

"Your suspicions are to be confirmed by yours truly," he said solemnly, a little nod and a tiny, important glint in his eye. He clapped his hands together and said, altogether in a rush, "I must tell you something, Calamity. You are a very understanding girl and I trust that you will accept this with little protest, hmm? You read quite a lot, I hear."

"Stalker," I muttered under my breath, inaudible I hoped. But Wendigo let out a sharp, cuttingly forced laugh, though his eyes remained as emotionless as ever. "I won't accept a thing because I don't know what you're poking at. Just say it already and spare me the impatience."

A cruel smile cut across his face. "I must say, I am quite sorry you must be my next victim." He leaned in closer, his hot, rank breath fanning out across my face. I resisted the urge to cover my nose.

"I can tell you much, much more, if only you'll give up, without a struggle," he said persuasively. "I can satisfy every single of your curiosities if you just give up, promise that you will not fight. If you don't make this deal, however, and end your life easily, I'm afraid, catching you, I'll drag it out, slowly but surely..."

I shuddered, my eyes trapped within the illusion-like depths of his, my anger ready to burst. I was so, so in need of answers, but..maybe I could get it, while cheating. It would be risky, but I could act it out, pretend to go limp and let him go in for the kill. If I chose option one, to fight, he would be ready, but maybe if I acted very well, so realistic I almost convinced myself it was true...

Maybe I could escape.

I nodded, trying to make fear come into my face, a weak, helpless, giving up kind of fear. "Yes," I whispered, my heart cracking as I did this, because my words were a traitor to my own body. "It's a deal."

* * *

 _ **Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)**_

We received protective armor the next day. It was surprising, really, because how come we were getting so much sponsors? Either way, I was glad of all these gifts, because they would definitely help me or Cornell win.

 **A/N: I procrastinate too much XD time to go play piano even tho it's like 7:39 pm.**

 **1/27/17**


	44. quick thing about bidding

**Bidding is like** _ **betting**_ **on a tribute's winning chances, basically what they do in the Capitol(I'm p sure they mentioned it somewhere in the canon story). For instance, if you think Jackson will win, then you would take however amount of points you had, say, 145, and you could bid a certain number for that character's "viewer's perspective winning chance". I would have something on the top of each chapter saying the top bids for each tribute, so you can see who you guys think has a better chance of winning. Note that the actual victor might not be the one you guys are expecting with the highest bid- however, whoever places the top bid on the winner, and only the winner, will receive a custom one-shot written for them, it can be anything T rated or below and has to be something I have at least a little background knowledge on. Word count would be about 3000-5000 depending on how interested I am in the topic.**

 **Here's an example on what it would look like(these are fake BTW):**

 _Azurine: 50pts - top bid Jul312_

 _Calamity: 45pts - top bid DeadlyHuggles_

 _Cornell: 70pts - top bid kealimepie_

 **Etc etc**

 **Current Points**

Author196: 130

kealimepie: 385

hollowman96: 10

AtruxDragneel: 30

GalaxyPika: 15

Muddyboots: 220 (sorry your reviews were all the same)

jul312: 155

DeadlyHuggles: 140

Thglover12: 15

Bananananananana: 5

BabyRue11: 30

murphyyy2000/hgfanboyy: 65

Elim9: 10

Jolteon2404: 115

The Wandering Phantom: 10

Poodlenoodles: 5

BloodedInk: 65

The Girl With The Knives: 35

EllaRoseEverdeen: 55

Pi Or Pie: 10

MrDauntlessHorse: 5

Lmklein20account2: 20

Guest: 5

BloodBath Guy: 5

yyvonnee: 25

guest3: 50

Radio Free Death: 5

Guest: 5

Don'tbother: 5

Guest2: 10


	45. It all comes crashing down

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Calamity Astrea(D3 Female)

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

Jackson Winters(D12 Male)

 **Calamity Astrea**

His smile was wide as I spoke the words, filled with triumph, like he had already won, and diminishing upon my confidence. I tried not to shake and lifted my chin, meeting him square in the eye as he contemplated, very, very slowly.

Finally he said, very puzzled and with a hint of humor, "Did you really think I'd tell you everything?" He propped his chin on his splayed palm. "Did you really think I'd tell you all my plans?"

My eyes stung and I forced myself to swallow, a gulping sort of noise that made me ever so self-conscious. I dared utter, in a voice which betrayed falseness, "Yes," so quavery I wished I hadn't spoken at all. I felt like I had lost. Like he had already won. All the strength I had built up in the last few seconds, all the determination, had vanished like fluffy white clouds on a good, blue-skied day, to be replaced by storms, thunder, and rain.

He choked on a laugh, his eyes glinting with deadly malice. "Really. As if you aren't lying. As if you would really tell the truth to the 'bad guy'." Such hollowness stuck to his voice I was almost afraid he would do something foolish, something not part of his plan, like kill me now and be done with it.

"Would you expect me to tell the truth?" I mustered, hating how he talked so casually, when I was about to die. He should make it quick, painless, not draw this out, so long that I almost yearned to die. It was torture, talking to this inhumane soul who leeched all of the kindness out of the world.

"I expect you to be realistic and know that the cost for saying one wrong word is your life," he said calmly, tilting his head through narrowed eyes. "I'm an easily offended person and if you insult me, you'll have to pay a decent price." He paused eerily. "And you do not have much. So all I ask for is your sacrifice."

"I know," I snapped, suddenly impatient with the slow, mysterious way he spoke. "Just get on with it. What is your plan?" When his eyebrow raised, I added quickly, "You did tell me you would satisfy every single one of my curiosities, if I went through with my deal. Has a cat got your tongue or are you just afraid of talking? By how I know you, I would've thought you'd been blabbering on already." The words which had come out my mouth made me regret the whole thing immediately, but I didn't care. They had already stirred the air, a bold, insulting move that might just be the wrong move he had been talking about. But hopefully, if I understood him right and I had struck his pride...maybe he could change his mind and feel injured.. Though, of course, bad guys didn't feel injured. They didn't care about insults. They didn't care about promises. They only cared about power.

He folded his arms, a scowl suddenly coming over his face, shredding the finest sophisticated features of his face, the everlasting patience, of mystery. "Fine," he spat. "I'll tell you if you really want me to. But don't expect your death to be fast."

"You said you were going to 'end my life easily'," I countered, suddenly afraid of the power he had in his hands. He could kill me, and he had the decision whether to make it fast or slow. By making this promise, I had let him have the upper hand, the choosing to go through wit his side of the deal or not. I had relied on trust, that maybe there was some ounce of good still inside him. But maybe, there was not..

"I did?" He seemed to have forgotten. "Well, I take that back. Your death will be very, very satisfying for me, and very, very painful for you." He regained that oozing of the voice one more, that slow, quiet demeanor.

"Then get on with it," I said crossly. If he wanted to make it painful, so be it. I had no other reason to be living anyways. "Tell me, first, what exactly is your plan, and what do you want? And why are you freaking even in this arena?"

"My plan is quite complicated, I'm not sure someone like you could handle it," Wendigo said matter-of-factly. "But if you insist..." He took a deep breath, inhaled, exhaled, and a vision of goodness, of self-pride, in believing he was doing the right thing crossed his face, for just a split second. Then it was gone, the signature calmness back, no emotion registering in his eyes.

"It begins simply with the fact that everything the Capitol is doing, is wrong," a passionate tone overtook his voice and his eyes glazed over with memory. "Don't you believe it? They are hogging all the food while we commoners have to do the work-"

"But you're not a commoner," I cut in, "aren't you? You're with the Capitol, you were born there."

"Smart you are. It was the books, wasn't it?" His brow wrinkled. "I was born in the Capitol. But then I realized, everything I stood for, everything I was loyal to was all a big, fat lie. They told us schoolchildren, in the 2th grade, that they were doing right, that the Districts had been cruel to them before and this was their revenge. But, in the 4h grade, I did a research project, and I found out about what really happened. What really happened was horrible, I had nightmares for months of myself being evil, a young child I was back then. But then I grew stronger. I told myself I had to toughen up, and so I did. I did a lot of things to prove to myself I could be tough." Nostalgia rolled across his face in heavy waves, an emotion which looked so strange on his usually blank face. "Robbed people, killed my parents..you name it. I'll begin my little explanation with something you understand more, however." He sighed. "Do you remember your allies, Tyler and Mica?" He didn't give me time to respond. "Well, I was the one who killed Tyler. I changed the waters, hacking into the technology controlling it in the Capitol. I was going for Tyler at first but then stupid Mica had to jump in, and he died instead.. And also, I am Murray's mentor. I disguised myself and, with a bit of persuading, managed to get in. Plus, do you remember trouble-making Algar? I cause all of it, I put everything in just the right place where he would encounter it." This was when he paused, a look of utmost pain coming across his face. "I don't know if you know Mia, but she's a girl in District Ten, friends with Dahlia, I believe, Dahlia Rhodes in these Games. She is my daughter."

I expected to feel surprised but instead..I was just, there. All of these revelations had been a suspicion and now they were just being confirmed. I didn't even know who Mia was, anyway.

"Because I'm a supposed criminal, I have a secret that she doesn't want anyone to know. If somebody found out that she was connected to me, she would be put in jail. And she can't report to security. I threatened her about that, and they wouldn't catch up with me, anyway. So, she went through with my deal. It was that if she worked for me, gathering information, being my little spy..I would not reveal her secret, the secret which would destroy her reputation. Heck, even her own mother doesn't know she's working for Daddy, and that's why she lives in fear all the time, because she thinks somebody must have found out eventually.

"I saved Alice's life, too. The Alice who died in the arena? I was in District Twelve for a little vacation, just enjoying how terrible it was there because luxury can be a bore when you're drowned with it like at the Capitol. I thought I might be good to her and later she would feel the need to repay me, and she could be my spy in Twelve.

"I did all of these things, but you might be wondering, what is my plan? Why am I here in this arena? Well, I decided this would be the perfect time to strike. So many people I had once known were in this arena, so many I had coincidentally met. I had saved others, of course, but this was still a good time for me. And so, I made a plan. To get into the arena, I would have to be someone working with the Capitol, so I faked it into a role as mentor, making it easy for me to accomplish many things. You might be noticing how I have left you five alone, at least for now. And, you're still here, too. You are not part of my plan, except that I like your attitude and it would be a shame to see you leave, although you need to work on your impatience. As for Azurine, she is excellent with the throwing knives, a part of my plan. Cameron, he's the center of my plan, and Cornell's his ally, I don't want to kill Cornell just yet because he's protecting Cameron and because if he died, Cameron would be devastated and weak. Jackson's not part of my plan, he's like you, someone I admire because of his sacrifices and history. But, he'll be dead by the end of today.

"I genuinely feel sorry that I am killing all these people. But it's a part of life. They'd be dead anyway if I hadn't interfered, I'm just making it quicker. I hate the Capitol, and everything that I am doing now, is going towards defeating them so we can replace their unfair government with mine. Only the ones who are willing to sacrifice the most should be the leader, and I think you agree with me that the Capitol is starving everyone, especially in the outer Districts.

"There are special knives underneath the arena, which are rumored to be called the Dead Which Can Kill Dead. These knives need a good wielder, hence, Azurine and Cameron. They are both good with throwing knives, but I have chosen Cameron to be in my plan because he is young, easy to be manipulated. Azurine is my backup, just in case something with Cameron fails, although she has a mighty stubbornness and temper that won't help.

"With these knives, you are basically the center of power, it's like a gift from the gods. Anyone whom the knives sense are good, and kind-hearted, perhaps not me, are eligible to use them. Once Cameron gets his hands on the knives, he will have the utmost power, and I will control him, since he doesn't know better, to attempt to assassinate the president. Once the president is dead, the Capitol will fall, and we can restore order and just to the world.

"And it must, if possible, be Cameron, because he is young and easily manipulated. I can use him, tell him exactly what to say during his Victory Tour. Since he'll be a victor then, he'll have practically a whole District willing to do whatever he wants to get on his good side, so they can have a share of the riches, and with that authority, he can persuade the Capitol to stop the ongoing search for me. I'll tell him exactly what to say, I have it all planned out, word by word. And I know, I'm a criminal, it'll be difficult to persuade the Capitol, but anything's possible if a good guy's saying it."

He finished, quite proudly, and I had to admit, the plan was just about genius, satisfying pretty much all my questions.

"And now it's time for you to die, I'm afraid," he said, with a little sigh, and a glance at the trees above. He withdrew his spear, hurled it at me, and everything disappeared like a blast of smoke, finally extinguished. I had thought it would be fast. But I suppose he had forgotten, after, I dared to believe, the guilt his confession had caused him.

Over my dead body, Wendigo did not realize that there was a hidden camera, staring him straight in the eye, and that it had just broadcasted everything he had said, on national television.

 **Jackson Winters**

Beep. Beep. Beep. A sudden sound shot across my ears and I groaned, looking up. I had gotten over Alice, but it hadn't been easy, she had been a true friend. And true friends, would never be forgotten.

The beeping continued, then suddenly a voice rang out onto the speakers. Wait a second...but this wasn't anyone from the Capitol. In fact, this was a pure stranger...no. I had heard this voice before, someone I never wanted to hear again, and it was Wendigo.

What's he doing on the speakers? I wondered. Then I realized this was spilling much more than just his drawling voice, it was spilling secrets. I listened, my stomach coiling around and around as more and more of his plots, his plans were made public to us. It was worse than I had imagined. Before, I had thought he was just some killer, but now it was...well, terrible. I was against the Capitol, sure, and that was what made it hard to believe. He was doing all of this to get rid of the Capitol, it sounded like good intentions to just about anyone. But then he was going to kill so many people in order to achieve what he called just...

I shook my head. He was evil, enough said. I shouldn't question exactly how evil, because whoever did all this certainly wouldn't be _good._

This happened in the afternoon then at dusk, I saw him again. He finally looked like he was apart of the wild, his hair all over the place, nose dripping. The snow acted as a glowering white backdrop to the hatred radiating from him.

He said nothing, as if he was finally done, his mouth curled into a permanent snarl. I had just enough time to remember all that had happened in my life, my volunteering, the abuse, my parents, the bruises, the scratches, the crying, the strength, the love, the fight, the torture, the anger, the unfairness, the stings, the crashing, the roaring, everything.

And then he released the spear, and everything which had just occurred to me, disappeared in a millisecond as blood oozed out of my stomach, like his voice which came ever so slowly.

 **2/4**


	46. And Another Death

**STILL ALIVE LIST:**

Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)

Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)

Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)

* * *

 _ **Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)**_

I had always, well, expected myself to be brave, powerful, and bold to the end. To never give up, stay fierce, strong, and avoid breakdowns as much as possible. I hated whenever that scratching in my throat came up, when the old memories pushed themselves into my brain, bearing an independent mind of its own. I could overcome these weaknesses, I told myself for as long as I could before the clawing would come again, the internal struggle to stay good, when my actions were pointing me to a side of cruelty. How many people had I killed? I didn't even want to remember. It wasn't that I didn't have the heart to think about it. I was just too scared to admit to my mistakes.

 _Azurine, you're a girl. And a girl can't do what a boy can._

 _Azurine, you're a monster. You're such a monster that you can't think freely. The monster has escaped from its cage and taken over you entirely. You're wicked. You're despicable. You're not trying to do everything you can to get home. You're trying to do everything you can to make sure everyone else cannot get home._

God. I was a monster. The voices were right. I couldn't stop fighting anymore the whispers, the screams, in my head, because they were all true. I was just hiding from my fears, thinking they would diminish eventually. But all I was doing was running from the truth.

The truth. Such a powerful word to confront. Most people did easily, but I, no, I _had_ to be different, I _had_ to be the one person to ruin it all, and keep killing, and keep running, running away with the wind.

Now I was alone. And I had been alone for some time. With Calamity and Jackson dead- and I hated to admit to myself it was the _one_ thing I was thinking about- I was the only girl left. I had to prove it. I had to prove that even though I was a girl, I had the same strength, the same speed, and the same determination as a boy had. Because if I lost, my family would keep up that line of thought, that feeling, that tradition of knowledge: _boys have better capability than girls._

I was alone, no allies, and that was a good thing too. It meant nobody could see, or hear my sudden breakdowns. It was all internally, of course, I never shed a tear. But the look on my face, the burning anger, the twisting of guilt, a turmoil nobody else could imagine, was breathtakingly hurtful, and even though one little expression couldn't do much, it could still make one think hard thoughts about me. There was no crying. No angry tears wishing everything could be different, thinking everything in the world was unfair. Just those thoughts, twisting around my head, dealing more damage than one could believe.

Maybe if I were a different person everything could change. Maybe if I were some fantastic, excellent teenager who went to school like a normal kid, and had tons of friends, and no enemies. But that wasn't me. It could never be me. That person, that personality, would deal with this situation with their friends. I had to go about it alone.

You couldn't call it suicidal. I wasn't suicidal, I had always been stronger than that. I was just a mad, angered person, one who had nothing to live for, nothing at all-

There went my feelings again. Why couldn't things be different? Why was I stuck with the bitterness of kills, the looks of those dead, terror-struck eyes, weeping allies... I squeezed my eyes shut, making sure they did not seep water, not like that other time, no-

The voices. They came back. And harder than ever.

 _Azurine, you killed_ me _physically._

 _Now I'll kill_ you _mentally._

* * *

 _ **Cameron Bordeaux(D6 Male)**_

My sad soul on the inside, combined with the happy exterior I fought to keep up, was strange, sometimes. It was like I was two different personalities. And I didn't want to admit it, but halfway through the Games, the struggle had become harder. The jokes, which usually swam up to my mouth willingly, took longer to say. The same was with Cornell.

I remember how I had liked him from the start- the jokes, the funny, relaxed personality when inside he was dealing with the same as me. Sure, I had a better life from an outsider's perspective, but then anyone would feel sympathetic to themselves. His father was sick and my family was well. It was a logical conclusion.

But maybe, when someone learns to overcome worse hardships, they get tougher. The more terrible things that happen to them, the more they realize how bittersweet life is, and when I look at it, perhaps I have it worse than Cornell, just because how I take things.

I didn't break under the struggle, however. I kept going. It wasn't like Azurine, though of course, she had a lot more to deal with, expectations and who knows what's driving her to kill, but it was _something._ Everybody had internal hardships deep inside, despite what you're thinking, that if they look happy, then they are happy. That's how you make friends. You go beyond the plain surface, beyond just courtesy and manners, and _really_ understand them. You know what their life is like and you understand them, not just do what a normal person would do: say you're sorry, and offer great, apologetic sympathies. Of course sympathy is expected of you. But if you want to be a true friend, you have to know, within your soul, how deep, how terrible, that hardship really is for them. And to do that, to really understand, you must begin with conflicts of your own.

This sentimental statement was not one I'd come to every day. I was just a kid- twelve years old- after all. I didn't need to _know_ these things. But through the Hunger Games I had learned a lot. And though everyone may keep their outer personalities, the victor who comes back every year, is changed, for the good, for understanding, or to the worse, trauma. If they have a stronger internal mind, then they'll be able to get through the nightmares that trail the Games. but if they're less fortunate..it changes them. Forever.

* * *

 _ **Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)**_

It was one of those particular days I was just thinking about my parents. Most of all about dad, but also about mom. Her depression, how I could possibly fix it if I got home. I was quite sure it was going to be permanent, that her sorrow would last until her final days of living, but a part of me hoped maybe she could get better. Maybe she could think her way through it, or something.

I was overall concentrated on dad. The fact was literally numb to me now, but every so often, the words would really register in my mind, and I could feel that sharp weight on my back digging into my flesh, like little wood bits that wouldn't stay on top.

He was sick. It wasn't like I could do anything about it, though. All I _could_ do was pray, clasping both hands tight until they were rubbed raw, a deep salmon-ish red color that outlined calluses, tons of them in one lined palm.

I still liked to make conversation, though. Through my brief silences, I realized that talking to Cameron was the only way I felt connected to the world. When I didn't, my thoughts drifted up into the sky, traveling back to my home, where I belonged, and where I wanted to go, just one more time, again.

I wished I had said my goodbyes more thoroughly, that I had done something memorable. But no, all I was was just boring old Cornell, who would leave no mark on the universe once he was dead. I would only bring more sorrow to the family. And dad...and my siblings...could they even survive without me?

These thoughts, down, heartbroken, made me feel slightly more cheerful, more obligated to be happy. I forced a smile onto my face every morning, and as the days trembled on, the forests seemed deserted, quiet, no shudder, no chill, but the one in my heart which had been there since dad had gotten sick.

The smile was not to be reflected, by Cameron, who looked like he pretty much had enough, and wanted to do something, so very, very badly, but did not know what to do. The same went with me. I knew one of us could win, after all, it was two-to-one: we outnumbered Azurine completely. Even though she was a Career, I had faith in our alliance, even as it was slowly rotting along the edges, not by friendship but in our spirits. Cameron could easily kill her with his skill in the knife, and even if he might not win single-handedly against Azurine, he could definitely take her by surprise. The only thing I was doubtful of was whether he had the heart to do so. Cameron was damp in moods, his soul sad even as his face steadily remained a neutral happy. He was not one to kill someone, and would probably have second-thoughts, even with his confident hatred of Azurine, claiming she had killed too many to ever achieve redemption. But I...well, I didn't know. Could I kill? I hardly knew how to use any weapons. And..I probably lacked the same thing as Cameron- to do whatever I could to get home.

It was night, and I couldn't sleep. My heart kept pounding loudly in my chest, sharp-sounding and filled with a sort of nerves I felt I had never possessed until now. I had a sort of bumpy energy when it was late and dark, that only sleep could provide a solution to. Ever since we had heard about all of Wendigo's sins, the world had seemed filled with pulsing, tense force. That had been roughly a week ago. A week where we had adapted a new, Hunger Games-changed attitude, slightly a sentimental spirits, and reflective, always reflective.

I cracked an eye open. All my muscles felt as if they had been rolled over by a horsedrawn wagon, limp as could be. The night sky was busy with the buzzing of fireflies, providing an ominous background noise of chirruping. There were no stars tonight, no softly glowing light but the moon, which hung, in its half shape, across the darkness.

I tilted my head to look over at Cameron. And then my muscles all seized up; the looseness from before was all simply a dream. My mouth trembled, slightly, and all I could do was stare, the thump-thumping of my heart beating a cautious rhythm.

The black-and-white of the air made everything ever the more spooky. But- and I couldn't be mistaken- his eyes were wide, like two miniature moons. His mouth was opened a tiny notch, nose flaring, cheeks hollow, expression terror. And then there was something else that made the familiar saliva come into my throat- I swallowed it down, forcefully.

I looked upon this second-to-last death using new eyes, eyes filled with a week to think, a week to imagine...everything. My dad, my mom, my siblings..they all slipped away as only reality sent me toppling to my feet.

There was, unmistakably, dark red blood, a tiny bit of it, but still there, trickling slowly past the corner of his mouth, down his chin, stopping at the neck. The stars- where were they? No. They were gone. Spirits could not see us tonight.

"C-Cameron?" I wheezed out, a low noise, full of defeat. My lower lip trembled, I wasn't sure it could be true. Cameron..oh, no, not Cameron. The one who told jokes? The one who acted funny all the time? The one who had been forced to mature because he was so young?

 _The one who had volunteered, so confident he could win, and instead died because of this determination?_

I moved my jaw, heavy with guilt, a strange guilt of why didn't I prevent him from dying and if onlys and what could I have done differently.

I rubbed my eye full of moisture. Was it a scream I was feeling at the base of my tongue? But no, I was too choked up for that. I- could have- if only- why-

 _What would I have done_

 _if I_

 _had known._

 **2/11**


	47. A Victor Announced

**you guys ive been lazy XD**

* * *

 _ **Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)**_

The initial shock subsiding from Cameron's death, I almost instantly went to the only true thing that mattered, not so much as vengeance but pure, hollow grief: who was his killer. I had to know, who had the heart do so such a thing, and why?

I had a suspicion, but it was a brief one. My senses had been buzzing since the second my eyes lay on his dead body, like they had suddenly come back to life after a while of numbness. My palms ran sweat like blood as I slowly touched his arm. It felt scary, like he had suddenly turned to cobwebs. My nerves twitched as my fingers brushed against the sleeve of his jacket, feeling like the whole thing was completely surreal. How could this happen? What did the Capitol want to achieve by this? Ruin everyone's lives?

 _'Cause they're doing a pretty good job at that,_ I thought very bitterly. Moments later I wanted to bite my tongue out for thinking with such fervent negativity. I was supposed to be that one guy who could power through anything, keep his calm, and be a good person in general. I vowed to myself, the night before the Games had started, when I had been unable to sleep, that I would never be one of those people who lost it from an onslaught of bad things upon their life, living the rest of their days out of revenge. I would stay good, pure. And I would never, even with this terrible thing, let myself down, let the bad person who had done it win.

I rolled over Cameron's dead body but could not find a single thing to pinpoint the murderer. I was just about to give up, let go.. until I found something, fluttering slightly in the cool air. I removed it from its place beneath a stone, and read it through shaking fingers, feeling like this place was haunted, a murder scene.

It said, in a delicately curled script, _He was part of my plan. But now that everyone knows what I'm going to do, I can start my backup. I am not a fool. I did not tell Calamity because I thought this wouldn't happened, no. I told her because I already knew I was going to kill Cameron._

And then the penned ink skidded to an abrupt, scratchy stop at his name, which was written through scratchy, unclear lettering, _Wendigo._

Okay. I breathed in, and out, my energy sharp and beating rapidly through my heart. I could do this. I could.. oh. _Oh._

Now it was down to me against Azurine. I cast my thoughts ahead, willing myself not to be nervous. Me against a Career? What were the chances of me winning? I mean, I could have a decent amount of hope if it were some other tribute, although my guilt level would be high but... A Career? Who had trained all their life for this and could probably stab me in a half with a knife before I even picked up my weapon?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You can do it.

After Cameron's death, it was the least I could do.

 _Claim victory._

* * *

 _ **Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)**_

Honestly, I had been expecting a fiercer opponent than Cornell for the end. I had thought I would be fighting Cameron. I had been confident, because we were both good with the throwing knife, but I had much more experience.

The thing was, maybe Cornell had some kind of hidden talent I knew nothing about. He hadn't really give me much of an impression but that he was...I guess...Farmer boy? I mean, I didn't want to appear shallow, but in all honesty, this was what I thought.

And what I thought was more important than anything else now. I wouldn't be forced by just the thought of proving myself. I would do what was truly seen, and visualized, as good. Better than good. To achieve redemption, I would have to be _perfect._

Gee, that would be difficult. This thought transported to a few weeks ago would have made me shiver by all the things I had dismissed as weak efforts. But, patience. Be patient. Slowly make yourself likable.

I remembered, queerly, a saying my mother had liked to toss around every few days, just for fun, with that toss of her head without care: _Azurine, the world revolves around the people. To achieve far in life, you must respect that, and you must respect society._

I clenched my fists, biting my tongue hard. The excess, the onslaught of memories was tiring to hold. It was like an imaginary weight upon my back, one that refused to be lessened. I dug my jaw in harder and felt blood tingle at the tip of my tongue. It tasted of salt, carrying a bitter tang like olives. The salt-and-bitter flavor filled my mouth and I couldn't remember the last time I had devoured something sweet.

 _The world isn't about showing everyone your sweet, kind shell, Azurine._

I gritted my teeth and decided I would do it now. I would set out to find Cornell. I would kill him. I would go back home.

And I would never harm a soul ever again, for as long as I lived. It seemed hard to keep that promise, which made me want to stab myself because to be a kind person I should be, well, genuinely kind, but when I was angry, I could do things I would regret later on. Like whenever I killed an innocent tribute in the Games, for example, Harriet Wilson: the thing was, I hadn't wanted to kill her. I had just reminded myself about all those bad things my parents had told me and that had been enough to send the knife flying.

I remembered how innocent she had seemed, innocent and, with a bit of sniffy scorn, weak. There was no way she could have won; from the moment she was Reaped, it was obvious she would be a Bloodbath tribute. But these reminders didn't tamp down the wave of nausea I felt every time I touched this tender subject. The kinder, the sweeter the tribute, the more I was prone to feel guilt. And with more guilt, I felt like I was being weak, that my parents were right, I could never win, could never do well.

I shoved it all down, my stomach burning. I was really mad at letting this get to me, especially because Careers tributes who had won in the past Games had killed many without remorse. This partially taken care of, thee annoyance suffocated for a moment, I stalked out of the cave, believing I was closer to winning.

* * *

 _ **Cornell Wheaton(D9 Male)**_

She was shorter than I had expected. I hadn't seen her in a while so this aspect was quite surprising to me, especially since I was considerably tall. For a second I underestimated her. After all, how could this girl whom I was a head higher than win?

I told myself to push down this strange feeling which had come up. She was good with the knives, and it would be a deadly mistake if I thought she wasn't capable of destroying me in a heartbeat. I took a deep breath in, a cool determination flowing over me.

She shoved her way out of the shadows, her eyes glinting sharply in the rays of light scattered down in the clearing. And then a second figure appeared, looking average at first. But then I caught a glimpse of his face- and my heart went into my throat.

I took out my scythe, hand shaking ever so slightly as I held it up intimidatingly. Azurine looked like she was about the scoff, or laugh, or at least make some other sound of cruel amusement. I was about to retort sharply when I realized the doubt flashing in her eyes as well.

Had she changed? Had Azurine Bahari, top killer, changed? It was impossible. Nobody who had thrown multiple knives into others' flesh could change. She was a monster. I had to remind myself about that so I didn't hesitate. I was killing a monster.

Wendigo snarled. His gaze flashed cruelly and his nose flared. His face was poisoned with shadows, full to the brim in anger. He withdrew a long, pointy spear, with a large end that looked quite scary. I spun the scythe between my hands nervously. Was I going against Azurine and Wendigo? How the heck was I supposed to win?

All my fears vanished, though, as Azurine unsheathed a lethal knife of her own. It spun the light in dizzying patterns, its reflection showing the trees momentarily. She held it tightly between her fingers, which were laced tightly around the handle. Holding it up, her muscles tightening, she looked like she had the potential to get rid of him. And I was grateful for a moment she was not on Wendigo's side.

"Child," he purred in a strong, silky voice. "Are you really thinking? I could protect you, kill your opponent right this instance, without a blink. Do you really want to kill me? You know my plan, don't you? Well, it was all a lie.

"I thought Cameron was too weak to be of much use. So I got rid of him. But you, my dear, you are a deadly asset. _You_ cannot be harmed."

Azurine looked thoughtful for a moment, like she was really considering his words. My stomach tightened with fear as she turned the knife toward me confidently. Her eyes were dim. Her knuckles had gone white as snow.

Then, in one quick flash of a movement, she spun around and let go of the knife. It zoomed through the air, faster than I would have possible, with lethal potential. A blink later, the knife had dug into Wendigo's chest. Blood flew through the air, arcing in ruby-red waves. The knife was locked deep into his flesh.

Azurine looked down at her hands, her chest heaving with slight guilt. I wanted, for some reason, to tell her it was okay. That she had done a good thing, finally. She had defeated the enemy.

But here was one thing to question- was he really the enemy? The Capitol was evil and all he had wanted was to get rid of them. Sure, he had used evil intentions in order to go through with his plan, but he had sacrificed so much, his reputation, his perfect life, just to start a rebellion.

The spark would stay, I was sure of it. Though he had failed, maybe somebody else would come, in future years, to craft a plan that would not involve so much death. Rebellions were full of death, I knew. But I had to _hope._

I turned my gaze to Azurine, knowing I had to kill her in order to see the rebellion come to life, burst into flames. But an invisible force stopped me. I did not want to kill. Even her...I did want to commit such a crime. I would live with the guilt for the rest of my life.

She dug out another knife from inside her jacket. How many did she have? I wondered. If I dodged, would she simply produce another one? Or was this her last weapon?

If this was her last weapon...and I ducked, I might be able to kill her. It would be difficult, however...

I drew in a steady breath and raised the scythe into the air, seeing it glow in all its dull bronze. I lifted it into the air, lip quivering. It was not from cold, just nerves. I had become numb to the weather long, long ago.

I then felt a sudden force hit me, knocking me back. I opened my mouth to utter a scream, but I couldn't. My mouth felt sore, no words could get out. My eyes fluttered open anxiously.

The knife was deep into the snow, an inch away from my foot. I wondered if she had done it on purpose. She was excellent with the throwing knives, after all...

I looked up and knew my theory was right. She didn't want to kill me after she had just done such a good-hero deed to surely boost her long-gone reputation. Gulping, knowing she was staring at me calmly and expecting me to kill her.. I flung the scythe.

It gleamed, dark in the light. And she did something totally unexpected.

She caught the scythe as it was spinning in mid-air.

* * *

 _ **Azurine Bahari(D4 Female)**_

It was just of pure instinct that I used my outstretched hands to catch the scythe. It was heavy in my hands, the force of the catch making me stumble back a few steps. But I was alive. And he was weaponless.

I swallowed. I had missed him on purpose. I was so ready to die, a hero, always remembered. But just then, I met a face: I was afraid to die.

Everyone's afraid to die, I thought reasonably as I twirled the scythe in my fingers. So, would I rather want to see darkness and nothing in front of my dead eyes forever...

Or would I do anything to live?

The scythe was thrown with incredible force as I made my decision. It sank firmly into his neck, looking rather like a painless death as he crashed to the ground, the 5 foot 11 weight sending snow flying. I stepped closer, catching my breath. I had really done it. I had really won.

We had both experienced doubt, but in the end, I had been the one to throw the scythe. I had never thought I could kill someone ever again, but maybe the fact that I had done so so many other times helped me step over my hesitation.

My head was spinning wildly as I looked up to the skies. A cannon sounded, and a voice was projected over the invisible loudspeakers: _Congratulations, victor of the 36th Hunger Games: Azurine Bahari._

 **over thirty-five years later..**

I looked out the window, at the chaos that was crashing into my street. A rebellion had been started. This time, I hoped it would succeed without so much bloodshed, so much of a twisted mind. I took a deep, shuddering breath in as I watched snow flurries beginning to fall. Even through the knowledge that many would die now, I cracked a faint smile.

I hadn't seen this much snowfall since three decades before.

 **3/3/18**

 _and we're done._


	48. oof

ok

so

I'm writing a sequel to Frozen Alive.

Or, written.

I've _written_ a sequel to Frozen Alive.

It's not finished though.

Just wanted yall to know in case you wanted to read it since Im out of hiatus.

Peace.


End file.
